


The Promise of Nightmares

by XmagicalX (Xparrot)



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Dreams, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Psychic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-23
Updated: 2000-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 89,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/XmagicalX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galbadia has been stopped. Ultimecia is defeated. The world is saved.</p><p>If only life were that simple. If only a gift once given were so easily returned. If only heroes after the battle could enjoy their hard-won peace. If only...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Opening

**Author's Note:**

> This remains, as of 2009, the longest story I have ever completed, and one of my personal favorites despite its age.

Balamb Garden, his Garden, his home for most of his life, was a burnt-out shell. He ran down the scorched corridors, through broken glass and shattered doors, shouting. No one answered his calls. The devastation was incredible. Even Trabia Garden hadn't been damaged this badly by the Galbadian missiles. Not a room was intact.

The lift was gone. He pried open the doors to the shaft and climbed the steel ladder. Every clang of his boots on the rungs echoed through the long, vertical tunnel, making the silent blackness all the darker. When he reached the third floor, he wrestled one door back and clambered into the office hallway. The carpet was charred gray, huge slashes gouging the metal beneath. The air stank of sulfur, wisps of poisonous dark smoke floating low against the floor.

He crossed the hall in several long strides. A fallen iron beam blocked the entrance to the office and bridge. He vaulted it, then froze for an instant, spotting the body trapped beneath. Long golden hair draped over her stained red vest. Quistis Trepe, once his instructor, then his second. Her blue eyes stared up at the fractured ceiling.

Kneeling, he slipped off one glove and touched her throat. There was no pulse. Her skin was cool. One hand still clutched her whip, raised to her chest as if she had hoped it would protect her from the falling girder.

He closed her eyes and murmured a benediction. As he stood, the faintest sound caught his attention, a mew no louder than a newborn kitten's. Making his way around the wreckage of the collapsed bridge, he heard it again, a tiny, labored moan.

Half-buried in the rubble he found another corpse. The man's face was burned, contorted with the agony of his death, but the tattoo still recognizable. "...Zell," he whispered in shock, shaking his head. This couldn't be. Not all of them...this couldn't be.

Then he realized Zell had died with arms outstretched and fists clenched, as if in combat. A defense. Crouching, he began to dig through the wreckage, shoving aside planks and broken struts until he found her.

Her blue coat was black with blood, seeping from her wounded chest, but when he lifted her body in his arms, her eyes fluttered open. Their once-bright brown was clouded, but alive. She tried to speak. "...came..."

"I came, I'm here," he told her. "Lie still, don't move."

"...others..." Against his command she tried to raise herself, failed. "Where..."

"You're going to be fine. You have to rest, I'll—I'll help you." He thought to say he would find help, then realized there was none to find, not in time to save her. "You'll be all right," he chanted, a mantra, a prayer. "I'll help. You're going to be fine."

Her fingers closed weakly over his wrist. "Zell... Qui...Quistis..."

"Dead," he said, and heard his voice thicken. "They're...I found Selphie and Irvine outside, and Quistis and Zell—I've found no one alive." Only her. She weighed nothing in his arms; he didn't know if that was because she was so light, or because his arms were numb.

"...alone..."

"No," he whispered, gathering her closer. She was cold as snow, but she didn't shiver. "I'm here. We're not alone. Never."

"Will be..." She would have coughed, had she the strength. He felt her breath catch, her chest barely moving. "...can't..."

"You have to. Please, Rinoa. Please. Don't..." He lost the last of his voice to the tears sliding down his cheeks. "Please," his mouth shaped the word.

"Good...bye..." She sighed once and sagged against him, her eyes closing.

He cried her name, but her eyes never opened.

* * *

Jezikan Deling selected all of her wardrobe with much care and deliberation. If one was the President's wife, one must take one's appearance seriously. The people were attentive to wealth and its trappings; her dress should reflect the power of her position, without seeming either too flamboyant or too severe. Youth and beauty must be balanced with responsibility and good taste. She dressed carefully from the day of her marriage to Ferdid Deling, no matter that he was only a minister at the time. Blood is blood, and as Vinzer Deling's nephew there was little doubt Ferdid would someday take the highest office of Galbadia.

She hadn't expected the inauguration to come so soon after his winning the Vice Presidency, but after Vinzer's demise at the Sorceress Edea's hands, the government had little choice but to put Ferdid in command. It was that or lose control entirely, and the ministers would no sooner let power slip from their fingers than Jezikan would herself. She liked the ministers, sly old back-stabbing foxes that they were. She understood how their minds worked.

It was important she make a good impression on them as well as on the rest of the citizens. The council meeting, two days away, wasn't too distant to begin planning. She racked her closets, removed a scarlet dress and draped it over her figure contemplatively.

"Too bright," said Dahl from where he lay across her bed. "You'd look like a dawn-bird out hunting worms."

"Perhaps this, then," she suggested, holding up a black gown with a long, silvery train.

"Only if you wish to remind them of the Sorceress," he said. Sliding off the bed, he slunk to the closet, passing close enough to brush her thigh. "I imagine you want a more favorable look." He shuffled through the array and selected one to his tastes. "This one, maybe?"

She swatted him lightly. "Only for you, and only alone. Even Ferdid hasn't seen me in that. Certainly not before the entire council."

"Why not?" He smiled, wolflike. "Seducing them en masse would be simpler."

"Not so obviously," she reprimanded. "I'll have my way with them, but only in time."

"And if they don't sway to you in time?"

She slipped a slender hand under the gold silk of his tunic. He too understood the importance of dressing his part, the bright colors of a palace dandy camouflaging the danger in his black eyes. "If they do not," she purred, "that's where your talents come in, my love."

A sharp retort on the door interrupted his response. "Lady Jezikan?" called the guard outside. "You wished to be informed. The minister is in communication with the Garden now."

"Excellent. Thank you," she called, then looked back to Dahl as he wound his arms around her voluptuous curves. "It begins. Are we ready, do you think?"

"If we aren't," he murmured in her ear, "it will still go well for us. If we are," and his eyes shone, "it will be glorious. I will see you on the throne of the world, my queen."

And you will be my king, she answered, though not in words.

 

* * *

The double doors to the office were slammed so hard they bounced open three times before closing. With that audio cue, Squall didn't even bother looking up from his reports to identify the comer. Nor did Zell bother waiting for a greeting before announcing his business.

"You gotta talk to Irvine, Squall!" the SeeD cried, flinging himself into pacing the office, hands jammed in his back pockets. "He's driving me crazy—I'm gonna punch him out one of these days. WHAM, he'll be on the floor out cold and you'll have to discipline me. Only it won't be my fault, it'll be Irvine's, 'cause he pushed me too far. I warned you. I'm telling you now so you won't surprised when it happens. Are you listening to me?"

He planted his fists on the desk. Squall didn't lift his head from the pages, pausing to take note of important details on his computer. "Are you listening?" Zell asked again.

"Yes, Zell." Squall shifted one report to the bottom of the pile and started on the next.

"Good. Because I'm serious. I mean, he didn't even tell me about it! He set me up with Sashi, you know, the girl from the library. Got us reservations for the end of the week at the best restaurant in Balamb, and he didn't even ask if I was free."

"Are you?"

"Yes, but that's not the point! He asked her before he made the reservations! He made sure it was okay with her, that she knew all about it, and then he finally remembered he me. So we're in the training hall, taking on a pair of Grats, and right as he's reloading Irvine looks over and says, 'Oh yeah, get your dress blacks pressed, you want to look your best for your date.' I didn't believe it! I still can't believe he did that to me!"

"...I thought you liked the girl from the library."

"I do, I think, but..." Zell covered another lap around the office, driving his fist into the palm of his other hand. "I want to take it at my own pace, you know? See how it develops. Sure she's cute, but I'm not even sure I really like her, and here's Irvine, the master matchmaker. Just because things worked out so great with you and Rinoa—"

Squall looked up from his papers with an expression that on anyone else would have been called 'mild.' Zell backpedaled rapidly, "I mean, uh, I know you aren't, well, sure you are, we don't need to—"

He entirely missed the small smile playing across his friend's lips, and would have kept pushing his foot deeper into his mouth if he hadn't been saved by the bell. The intercom on Squall's desk chimed, and Xu's voice sounded from the bridge above. "Commander, we're receiving a communication request from Deling City, Galbadia, direct from the President's office. Shall I put them through?"

Squall reached for the com. "Yes."

Zell sat down out of view of the camera as a stranger's balding head came onscreen. "Greeting," the man said. "I'm Minister Kittering, Foreign Affairs. You're Squall Leonhart, correct? Leader of the SeeD mercenaries and Balamb Garden?"

"I'm the SeeD commander. Cid is the head of the Gardens."

"Good, good. You're the man I want. My government wishes to contract your SeeD." The minister's mouth was barely wide enough to hold his smile. It seemed to stretch beyond the borders of his lips. "All of them, or as many as you can offer. We're willing to pay whatever price."

"What's the mission?"

"President Deling can explain. In two days we're having a council meeting; it would be ideal if you could attend."

"We will. Expect us." Squall cut the connection, then contacted the bridge and ordered Nida to set a course for Deling City.

Zell bounced out of his seat the moment the minister was off the air. As soon as Squall had announced their destination over the general intercom, he starting talking. "Galbadia wants us? Last time we were in Galbadia, they threw all of us in prison. Think they'd try that again?"

"I doubt it. They were being ruled by the Sorceress then."

"Yeah, but they're still jerks. They let the Sorceress take over because they wanted to rule the world. Maybe they just want another Sorceress to try again—"

Squall's stare was not so mild this time. Zell swallowed, retreating a step. "I mean, uh...that's probably not it at all. The President wants to hire us SeeD, right?" He thumped his chest. "They need soldiers and they know their troops aren't good enough. So why not ask for the best? That's it. President Deling—" He paused. "Hey, I thought President Deling was killed by the Sorceress."

"Vinzer Deling was," Squall said. "I think this is his nephew. I don't remember his name."

"Big surprise," Zell muttered. "Look, it's nearly lunchtime, I better get down to the cafeteria before the hot dogs are gone. Catch ya later," and he scooted out the door.

He poked his head back in again a second later. "Oh, hey, Squall, keep forgetting to ask. I can use my T-board in the Garden, right? I'm not going to be ramming people or nothing. Please?"

The burden of command. Squall dropped his head into his hand. "All right," he said. "But only in the halls. Not in the dorms or the cafeteria."

"Great!" Zell took off in hot pursuit of his primary sustenance.

Zell wouldn't be the only one with questions about this most recent mission. Better take care of other things while he had the chance. Pushing the reports aside, Squall reached for the communication panel to put through a connection to Cid Kramer. The headmaster needed to know current Garden and SeeD assignments; he might also have some idea what Galbadia might be requesting from them. It never hurt to be prepared.

Of course, there were many things there was no possible way to be prepared for. Squall had learned that in depth last year; becoming SeeD commander was only the beginning of that list. If any luck was on their side, this job wouldn't be added to it.

 

* * *

"Quistis! Quisty! Did you hear what Squall just _said_?"

Quistis barely stepped out of the way before Selphie Tilmitt burst through the door. The small SeeD was in her standard yellow frock, her short hair tied back and holding her nunchakus. She came from a training exercise on the Quad to search out Quistis, who was enforcing Dr. Kodowaki's lectures to a few recalcitrant students. "Training duels are not to be taken as opportunities to win battle scars," the doctor was saying, "our commander's example aside. Yes?" She glanced over at Selphie, bubbling in the doorway.

"Excuse me," Quistis murmured, sweeping a sharp, ice-blue gaze over the students. "Listen to Dr. Kodowaki, now."

"Yes, Instructor!" the students chorused obediently.

All eyes were on her as she stepped out. Once in the hall, Selphie commented, "Looks like the Treppies are still around."

"More than ever," Quistis sighed. "Did you hear about the party they threw when I made Instructor again?"

"I think everyone did. Did you hear Squall on the intercom?" Selphie twirled her nunchakus. "We're going to Galbadia! Do you think we'll attack Deling City?"

"I think Squall would've mentioned that."

"Maybe he's keeping it a surprise! We come in, fire a missile and BOOM, before they know what hit them!"

Selphie beamed. Quistis eyed her doubtfully as they took the lift to the third floor office, formerly Cid's, now the SeeD commander's. Squall rose from his desk as they entered, his expression faintly troubled.

"Squall, that announcement. Was it serious? We're going to Galbadia?"

Squall nodded.

"To blow them up?" Selphie asked hopefully.

Squall shook his head and tersely explained. Quistis and Selphie soon took up his concern. "I don't know about this," Quistis said slowly. "They don't exactly like us. We were trying to stop them in Dollet and in Timber. Last time we were in Galbadia, they had us in prison for trying to kidnap the president and assassinate their ambassador."

"We were _ordered_ to do that!" Selphie protested. "And their ambassador was the Sorceress, after all."

"Yes, still...then we escaped and destroyed their missile base."

"Well, that," Selphie admitted. "But they tried to blow us up first!"

"Then we fought Galbadia Garden and nearly destroyed it," Quistis continued. "Then we worked with Esthar, and Esthar has been Galbadia's enemy for practically forever. And along the way we fought a lot of their soldiers and demolished some of their best war machines. Now all's forgiven, and they want to hire us?"

"I know," Squall said. "But it sounded like an honest request. I spoke with Cid, and he doesn't think it's a trap. He thinks it's important that we go. With Trabia Garden still being repaired, and Galbadia Garden at Fisherman's Horizon, we're the only active SeeD contingent."

"We have to show we're ready for anything," Selphie agreed. "Even Galbadia!"

"Why is Galbadia Garden at Fisherman's Horizon?" Quistis inquired.

Squall shrugged. "Undergoing renovations."

"You don't know for what?" Quistis crossed her arms. "Squall, aren't you SeeD commander? Doesn't that include the SeeD still in Galbadia Garden?"

Squall shrugged again. In truth he wasn't sure how far his authority reached. Until last year, there had been no SeeD commander. Cid, as founder and head of the oldest Garden, had had supremacy, but the other Garden headmasters had generally acted independently as they saw fit. Martine had renounced his position in Galbadia Garden, however, and the Trabia Garden headmaster had died when the Garden was bombed. They had temporary leaders now, not a problem since neither Garden was fully functional. When they were back to full strength, who would head them? Cid still had influence, but he had made Squall commander. Commander of all SeeD, or only Balamb Garden?

He didn't want to think about it. Irvine was a SeeD from Galbadia Garden, but Irvine lived at Balamb Garden now, along with many other SeeD from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens. A SeeD was supposed to follow the orders of whatever leader they were under, and as Squall was the commander of Balamb Garden, they listened to him. But Squall noticed Irvine saluted him, while the sharpshooter had never saluted Headmaster Martine. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Maybe it didn't mean anything.

Cid had told him Galbadia Garden was being overhauled by the artisans at Fisherman's Horizon. Did Squall have any responsibility beyond knowing that? "The renovation was Cid's order," he told Quistis. "Should I question it?"

"Not if you don't think you should," she said. "You can trust Cid. But maybe you could take some interest in what's going on around you. At least make it look like you care."

"I do care. But there's a lot I have to be interested in. I need to concentrate on Galbadia now, figure out why they want us."

"Why bother? They'll tell us when we get there." Quistis whirled and strode out. Selphie hurried after her, nearly running down Irvine Kinneas, who was just emerging from the lift.

The sharpshooter steadied her, then tipped his hat to Quistis. "Hello, ladies. Also visiting our stalwart commander?"

"We're through," Quistis said. "I wouldn't bother. He's not in the most communicative mood."

"He's thinking," Selphie supplied.

Irvine grinned. "Sounds like our Squall. So we're definitely going to Galbadia?"

"Unless you have a good reason not to. Even if you do, he probably doesn't want to hear it." Quistis stepped past them into the lift, the doors closing before they could follow.

Irvine scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Has Quisty been grumpy lately, or is it just me?"

Selphie sighed. "She's like that all the time now. I think she's stressed. She's an instructor again, but there aren't many regular classes right now, what with fixing the Gardens and assigning SeeD to do stuff. And Squall doesn't always listen to her, or he doesn't always seem like he's listening to her, anyway, so she gets mad at him."

Not the best way to get Squall's attention. "She's always been that way," Irvine remarked. "Good old bossy Quistis."

Selphie giggled. "Better not say that when she's got her whip!" Then she sobered, curls bouncing as she shook her head. "She's _not_ always like that, though. She used to laugh at Squall all the time, whenever he was too serious. Like Rinoa does. But Quistis doesn't at all now, and it's not because he's commander. It's bad."

"Very bad," Irvine agreed wholeheartedly. "Beautiful women are supposed to laugh. Something must be done."

"We've got to do something," Selphie agreed. Then paused. "What do you mean, 'beautiful women'?"

"I mean like you, Sephie," Irvine said in all sincerity.

"Just checking." She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips, taking the opportunity to swipe his hat. By the time he realized it was gone, she had already ducked into the lift and was on her way down, twisting the hat's brim as she pondered the problem at hand.

 

* * *

Come evening, Galbadian President Ferdid Deling summoned his wife to his bedchambers. She came, dressed demurely, her robe straight and opaque and her head lowered respectfully. When the oaken door closed behind her, Ferdid marched over and jerked her chin up. "Don't play the wilting flower with me, lady wife."

"Never to you, husband." Jezikan shoved away his massive paw and stared up at him haughtily. Compared with Dahl's languid feline poise, Ferdid was a bear, one of the shaggy, black beasts of the frozen north, yellow-eyed and clumsy. Not slow, in either action or wits; she couldn't have borne that. But lazy, unless he was motivated, and his ambitions were not high-reaching enough to suit her. "Why have you called me?"

"Desiring your beauty is not reason enough?" Ferdid's tone was pregnant with irony. She only arched a thin auburn brow, and he clumped back to his desk, gazing at the computer instead of her. "My ministers contacted the SeeD today. They're coming to the council meeting."

Her smooth face gave no sign she had heard this before. "I see. Is that all, husband?"

His back was to her. "I've decided to carry out the raid as you planned. As well as implement certain other measures which we had previously discussed."

"Other matters?" Sapphire eyes widened as she realized his meaning. "Husband, we agreed—"

"There was no agreement. We discussed it. I had made no decision. I have now. The doctor convinced me."

"He's a foolish old man, halfway a lunatic!"

"And half a genius. He believes it may be necessary."

"Dahl has refused—"

"His refusal matters little. We don't need him. I'd rather we didn't need the Sorceress, either, but as we do—"

"According to that addlepated doctor!"

"As we do need her," Ferdid went on as if he hadn't heard, "we must have her, your pet warlock's penchants aside. I am the President, wife. Not you."

In appearance he much resembled a younger version of his uncle Vinzer, his bristly hair blacker but his shoulders just as square. But Vinzer had been a weak-willed coward, eagerly placing the burden of power on the Sorceress's shoulders. There was too little of that weakness in his nephew. Ironic, that what had first drawn her to Ferdid should divide them now. There was no arguing with him, not about this; she knew him that well. "As you say, my lord husband," she replied, essaying a curtsey not entirely sarcastic. "The raid proceeds as we planned?"

"The ships have already sailed," he told her. "They'll arrive within a few days. More than we originally thought to send, at the doctor's suggestion."

"Very well. Is that all, husband?"

Ferdid turned from his desk, amber eyes tracing her figure. "Yes, wife."

Her fingers were on the gold-wrought door handle when he spoke again. His tone was different, softer, a voice suited to a bedchamber far distant from this opulent room. "Jezikan, there was a time I'd have called you for much less, and you'd have come happily."

"Long ago," she reminded him.

"But it was real, when you were happy. Your smile was real. Your laughter."

"Perhaps," she said. "I don't remember if they were."

She lifted the latch and swung the door open. She didn't hear his footsteps on the rug until he was directly behind her, his breath hot on her cheek. "I know your lover," he whispered. "Don't think I'm blind to the warlock's little games."

Under her robe, he could not see her back stiffen. Her low alto remained cool. "Will you slit my throat first, or his?"

"Leave," he hissed. Planting a broad hand against the small of her back, he shoved her into the hall. The guards respectfully kept their eyes fixed on the opposite wall while the door slammed, and said nothing as they escorted her back to her chambers. Idly she wondered who they were loyal to, him or her. It was inconsequential, really. In the end they would all follow the orders of their leader, whoever's voice it was.

 

* * *

Alone in the darkness, Squall caught his breath. Heart still pounding madly in his chest, he wiped a film of cool sweat from his forehead. There was no danger. Resisting the urge to dive for the light, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark. Every shadow was where it should be. Bed, bureau, desk. His jackets hanging on the wall above. The black case by the chair, where Lionheart resided. He reached out and ran his fingers over the embossed silver lion adorning the cover, almost feeling the blue magic which pulsed through the gunblade. It would light the room if he opened the case. He left it closed. Going to the commode, he splashed water on his face, his shadowed reflection observing him silently from the mirror. The eyes in the image looked haunted. He turned back to the empty room. He had only been SeeD for a year; he had never had single quarters before then. Sometimes it still felt odd, being alone. The total silence at night.

By the time he realized he wasn't heading back to his bed, he was already in the corridor outside his quarters. Should go back. Wouldn't be good for morale, if anyone happened to see their commander pacing the halls late at night.

The round white lamps along the walls glowed like artificial moons. At the end of the corridor the window let in true starlight, steady through the clouds whipping by the traveling Garden. He took four steps toward it, and then he was standing in front of her door. He shouldn't wake her. Returning to Galbadia was in its own way harder for her, with her father and everything from childhood she had left behind in Deling City. Squall understood about fathers. It had been far easier for him when he believed himself an orphan. She hadn't bothered him about their new destination the way everyone else had, but being quiet wasn't like her. She'd do better with sleep.

He knocked on her door, once, not loudly enough to wake her. No answer, of course. He should go back to his room—

The door opened. Rinoa blinked at him. "Squall?"

When necessary, Rinoa could look older than her eighteen years. Here in the pseudo-moonlight, her dark hair ruffled and a navy satin robe thrown over her flannel pajamas, she didn't look ten. Her brown eyes were serious, though. "What's wrong?"

"...Nothing." She was fine, she was safe. He had to sleep; they both did.

"Try again." Taking his arm, she pulled him inside, pushed him onto her bed and sat down next to him. "Tell me what's up."

"It's..." He looked at her helplessly. This was a bad idea. Once Rinoa started with questions, it was easier to slay a tyrannosaur with a toothpick than get her off them. "I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm sorry."

"I was already awake, kind of. You knocked; you were looking for me. Now you don't want to see me?" She mock-pouted.

"No, I..." He put his hand to his head. "I had a dream. Not a good one."

"A nightmare?"

"I guess." It was as dark in her room as in his, but for some reason the memory of the dream, so frightening before, now seemed embarrassingly silly. "I was...falling. Like in space, I just kept going down and down. It was dark but I knew I was dropping, I could see shapes rushing past, feel the wind. There were voices but they kept getting blown away. When I shouted, I couldn't hear it. And I couldn't see the bottom, but I knew there had to be one, and every second I fell I was getting closer to it. Then I woke up."

He half expected her to laugh, but she put a warm arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Sounds like a normal nightmare to me."

"...Normal?"

"Dreaming you're falling. Everyone has nightmares like that. I do. They're scary." She shivered. "Even when you know you're dreaming, and you'll wake up before you hit the ground, it's still terrifying."

"Everyone has dreams like that?"

Now she did laugh. "Maybe not everyone, but a lot! You didn't know?" She craned her neck to look up at him. "You never talked about dreams with anyone, did you."

Though it wasn't what she meant, he had a sudden memory of Seifer, his rival, his enemy, discussing his romantic dream the day of their SeeD test. A dream that almost destroyed him, not much later. "...No."

He felt Rinoa sigh. "Squall, sometimes I don't know if I should be annoyed by or sorry for you." She laughed, the light, quiet chuckle he never tired of hearing. "I have to laugh. I think that's best."

"I don't mind."

She smiled, nestling her head against his shoulder again. "So what's bothering you?"

"...Bothering me?"

"People have nightmares because they're upset about something, usually. Worried, or whatever. What's wrong? Is it going to Galbadia?"

"Maybe." He thought about all the concerns that had already raised. How many more might come up when they reached Deling City. "I spoke with Cid. He said it was my call, but that he thought it best we went."

"So you're not worried about that?"

"Not really." _Are you_? He didn't ask it aloud. "It was..." He wasn't sure how to put it into words. "I was talking to Cid. I tried to ask him..."

"Ask him what?" She sounded wide awake, leaning against him.

"What SeeD is about," he said. "I can't...I didn't know, before. When I first became a SeeD, I didn't know, I didn't care why we existed. But then we found out what we were really for."

"Fighting the Sorceress."

He nodded. Battling Ultimecia, a sorceress from who knew how far in the future, an evil raging unchecked across time, striving to end everything. Did even Cid know the true nature of the enemy at first? Edea might have; she had created SeeD and the Gardens, and it was she who took Ultimecia's powers when that Sorceress died. Was that in the past, or the future? Whose past, whose future? Didn't matter; it was over. They had won. Squall had lead his friends and together they had destroyed her.

And yet she hadn't even been born, and wouldn't be for years, maybe centuries. Maybe longer. Squall had seen that future, a glimpse of it, at least, and there had been SeeD then, fighting the Sorceress in her own time. But what of all the years in between? "There is no Sorceress to fight. There won't be, if Ellone and Dr. Odine are right. Ultimecia was trying to reach as far back in the past as she could; she won't be bothering with the present, or our future. Until she's born..."

"There's still a Sorceress," Rinoa said, and a shudder ran through her.

He tightened his arm around her. "You are not Ultimecia, Rinoa. I won't fight you. Never."

After a moment she relaxed. "So what did Cid tell you SeeD was for, now?"

"He hasn't, really. Except...a while ago, right after we defeated the Sorceress, he told me I was still commander of the SeeD. I asked him if there should be SeeD and Gardens, still, since we'd done what we were created to do. And Cid said of course there should be. 'Our real duty begins now,' he said."

"Your real duty? What?"

"I don't know." Squall rocked forward, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped before him. "He didn't say that. Maybe it's like we thought originally. We're mercenaries. We just do what we're hired to do."

"No," Rinoa said fiercely. "You're more than that. You're heroes. You did a lot of stuff before you ever heard of Ultimecia, you and all the SeeD. You helped people, all over the world. You saved nations and gave hope. That's important." She put her hands over his, bending forward to look at his face. "If you're ordered to do something you know is wrong, you don't have to do it. Even if they pay you. Just throw the money in their face and walk out."

"I'll hear what President Deling wants, first."

"Okay. Just remember, you have a choice. You always do. You forget that sometimes."

Because it wasn't always true. In the faint starlight from the window he studied her face, the dark hair falling softly over her pale cheeks. Rinoa hadn't had a choice when Ultimecia had possessed her to free Adel, or when Edea had transferred her powers and made her a sorceress. The only Sorceress, now.

Gently brushing her hair back from her face, he leaned forward and kissed her. When they separated, she wrapped both arms around him and put her head against his chest. Voice muffled by his tunic, she asked, "Squall? Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

"Here?" He glanced at her bed. There were lines and lines, and despite Irvine's continual suggestions, most of them had yet to be crossed. They were too young, and too busy, and too often unsure of where anything stood, between them or anyone else.

Rinoa giggled at the break in his usually calm voice. "We both need sleep, and we don't need to be alone. Come on." She pushed him back. "I've slept in your bed. It's the same kind of mattress and sheets as in your quarters."

But whenever Rinoa fell asleep on his bed, usually after a long planning session or conversation, he grabbed an extra pillow and slept on the floor. Now she crawled under the covers and curved up next to him, spoon fashion. It was automatic to put his arms around her. She was very warm and soft, and her hair, tickling his nose, smelled of sweet wildflowers he didn't know the names for.

For a moment they lay still, and Squall allowed the even rhythm of her breathing to soothe him. Strange, that sound could be more calming than silence. Sleep came easier than it usually did, but a thought occurred to him before it overtook him completely. She was still awake. He asked, "Rinoa, do you ever have nightmares?"

She shifted against him, finally whispered, "Sometimes."

There were so many reasons she could have nightmares. So many real dangers, so many moments in her life already that could have so nearly gone terribly wrong. And so much she had to worry about now. "If you do," he said, "you can come to me. I—maybe they won't be as bad."

"I don't think they would be," she murmured. "Thank you, Squall." She snuggled closer. He could feel her smiling as he drifted off.

 

* * *

Citizens of Deling City, capital of Galbadia, were not easily impressed. No provincial farmers, they had weathered the ruling of the Sorceress and the murder of their President with the hardened ennui of true city folk, going on with their lives without hardly batting an eye. The Sorceress's parade last year was still talked about in the country, but in Deling City the terrorist bombing of the police station last week was old news. It was said that a Deling man would only notice Bahamut if the King of Dragons breathed fire on the street before him—and then only if the fire were in his lane.

The appearance of a hovercraft as big as a mountain turned more than a few heads, however. Automobiles screeched to a halt as their drivers craned their necks at the spire towering overhead, the tip of what looked for all the world like an enormous piece of jewelry, a giant golden pendant studded with pearls and emeralds. Majestically it floated along the city walls, its size giving the illusion of slow motion, though anyone close felt the wind as it rushed past.

"What, by Odin's eye, is _that_?" exclaimed the busdriver as he pulled his vehicle up to the hotel stop. Ignoring the passengers disembarking to gape, he squinted through the windshield at the sight. It looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. On the ground, and not moving, it would almost look like—

"GARDEN," a sharp rasp cut through his thoughts. He turned to the two who had just climbed aboard, nodding politely while he tried to remember if he'd ever heard the woman speak. They had ridden his bus before, and though they usually sat in the back the pair was hard to forget. The woman, with her eyepatch and silver hair, he had suspected of being mute. Small wonder she didn't talk much, if her voice always sounded like that.

Her burly, swarthy companion, on the other hand, was rarely silent. "Balamb?" The woman nodded, and he copied the gesture. "Didn't think it was Galbadia, ya know?"

"Balamb Garden, you say?" the busdriver asked. Now he remembered hearing that the SeeD Gardens were mobile, though not that they were airborne.

"Looks like," the man said. "They must have business here. Probably the council meeting, ya know?"

The woman's single eye was on the Garden. "REPORT," she said.

The busdriver blinked at the non sequitur. The man nodded again. "Yeah, we should be getting back to the palace. Got business, ya know?" He gestured to the busdriver, then took a seat, remarking to his companion, "Though Seifer must know about it already. It's kind of hard to miss, ya know?"

"You'd have to be blind not to see it," commented the busdriver, his hands idle on the wheel. "Wonder what they're doing here. You two have any idea? Not that I've got nothing against the SeeD, but I know folk who'd shoot a mercenary soon as say hello, and with the revolutionaries stirring up trouble—"

"DRIVE," the woman ordered.

He drove.


	2. Capture

Balamb Garden set down outside the gates of the Presidential Palace, adjacent to Deling's Council Hall. An honor guard of Galbadian soldiers greeted Squall and his SeeD party as they disembarked, and escorted them inside to the hall's lobby. Among the forest of polished marble columns they met Foreign Minister Kittering, in the flesh even shorter and slighter, though his wide, fixed smile was undiminished. "You and your men—uh, people," he hastily altered, noting Quistis and Selphie, "are most welcome, Commander. If you'd like to see the chambers we've prepared—"

"We'll stay in the Garden," Squall told him. "The council meeting is tomorrow?"

"It begins at noon. We'll send a messenger to bring you," the minister said. "Until then, you can visit the city—we can use the tourism." He broadened his smile.

Squall didn't return it. "I'll tell them."

Behind him he heard Selphie whisper to Zell, "You and Sashi can go to a restaurant here!"

He missed Zell's reply as the minister added, "I don't want to seem impolite, but warn your people to be cautious. A few malcontents might attempt to spoil our citizens' good reputations. You'll of course have a guard, and our officers of the law are quite competent, but I wouldn't want you to receive the wrong impression from a couple—"

"I understand," Squall said. "Thank you, but we can take care of ourselves. Is that all?"

"Yes, I suppose—" The minister blinked as Squall offered a curt good-bye and departed, the other SeeD following suit.

By the time they exited the council hall Selphie was on her communicator, discussing a change in plans with Irvine over Zell's increasingly vocal protests. The sharpshooter and Rinoa joined them at the Garden entrance, neither half so interested in Squall's announcement as they were in convincing Zell not to forgo his date. "I know a wonderful little restaurant," Rinoa said. "The best food in the city—"

"Great!" Zell latched onto his one escape. "You can show us!"

"But, Zell—"

"I'm sure Sashi won't mind having you along," Zell said hurriedly. "How about you all come? Quistis? Squall? We can meet here tonight at 18.00 and all go out together." Once he had confirmation he sauntered off, whistling.

Irvine stared after him. Rinoa shook her head. "Sometimes we don't give him enough credit."

Quistis sighed. "Well, if it's not going to be a real date, I guess I can come. Better see what I have to wear."

Selphie watched her go, her forehead wrinkled. When the others went on ahead, the small SeeD pulled Irvine aside. "I think I know what's up with Quistis," she whispered, "and I know what to do about it."

 

* * *

"What do you mean, not a good idea?" Fists on her hips, Rinoa eyed the guard. "I'm a Galbadian citizen, and my friends are visitors invited by the President himself."

"I didn't say you couldn't go," the guard said nervously. "But there's plenty of other restaurants, with friendlier patrons—more your style people—"

"We prefer here, thank you." Holding her head high, Rinoa looped her arm through Squall's and strode past the guard, pulling her escort along beside her. The other five followed suit, Selphie sticking her tongue out as she passed.

The alley, lacking the streetlamps on the main streets, was dark and forbidding, the doors in the towering brick walls tightly shut and the windows shuttered. A cat's green eyes watched them suspiciously from under a trash receptacle. Next to Sashi, Zell cracked his knuckles. "You sure you know this place, Rinoa?"

"Sure I'm sure." Passing the cat's dumpster, she picked a blank brown door and rapped sharply twice. A hidden panel slid aside, closed again, and then the door was flung open.

"Rinoa Heartilly!" An enormous, ruddy-haired man, almost too large to fit in the doorway, beamed down at her. "By the Brothers' beards, you haven't come by in ages! The stories we've heard, wasn't sure we'd see you again, if one quarter of 'em were true."

"They probably are, Lank," Rinoa admitted. "But since we were in Deling, I wanted to come here. These are my friends. They're SeeD—I hope that's not a problem?"

"SeeD, eh?" Lank looked them over critically, then gave a deep chuckle. "Aye, there'll be no trouble, even if they weren't your friends. Be enough here that might be interested in their services."

"Not tonight," Rinoa said firmly. "They're—We're off-duty."

"Understand that right enough," Lank winked. "I'll put you where fewer will see you, then. So, you came in that Garden that caused such a rattle this afternoon?" Rumbling on, he escorted them through the door. Inside, the tavern seemed larger than the building without, the warmly lit, white walls giving an impression of space, with tasteful frescos and tapestries of mythological scenes to add color. The thick walls must have had sound-proofing as well; once inside, they were inundated with the hubbub of the crowd. Not a chair was empty, and many more stood around the bar, with the coloring and costumes of a wide variety of peoples from across the continents. Even a couple of Shumi merchants haggled at a corner table.

Lank must have seen their surprise. With a hint of a smirk, he said, "Welcome to the Minotaur's Horn. If you'll sit here, I'll have the Missus throw on the house special for all of you. Don't have any special distaste for frankfurters, do you?"

"No, sir!" Zell assured him.

True to his word, the proprietor placed them at a long table against the far wall, giving the SeeD an excellent view of the entire restaurant while the low light drew no attention to them. With a little maneuvering, Zell was seated beside Sashi, with Irvine on one side of them and Rinoa on the other. If Lank noticed their not-so-subtle guidance, he made no comment. But he did glance curiously at Squall once, small hazel eyes searching the SeeD's face and coming to rest on the scabbard at his side. He said nothing of it, however; most of the patrons had weapons barely concealed.

Once he left, Irvine planted his elbows on the table top and spoke over the room's babble. "Rinoa, how'd you find here? Doesn't look like a place your dad would frequent."

"That's how I found it." Rinoa admitted. "Trying to get away from home. I worked here for a waitress for a couple months, before my father found out and made me quit. But I'd made friends, and he couldn't keep me from visiting. I always found interesting people here. Actually, this is where I met the Forest Owls."

Squall looked up from his water glass. "Those Timber revolutionaries?"

Rinoa nodded. "Watt and Zone were recruiting for their cause. They wanted a general or a prince..."

"You told them you were a princess?" Selphie asked, recalling the title the two revolutionaries had always granted her.

Rinoa blushed. "I never told them _that_—I said I was the daughter of an important man. They decided he was a king."

"King of where?" Squall cocked his head inquiringly. "There are no countries with kings."

Rinoa shrugged. Irvine tapped Zell on the shoulder. "Hey, you're being awfully quiet." Lowering his voice, he whispered, "Just be yourself, that's the best way to go." Then, louder, he remarked, "So, Quistis, Sashi, you've been working on that new cross-Garden index, haven't you? Found any cool books of magic?"

"Hey, uh, yeah," Zell said, clearing his throat. "Like that—"

He broke off so abruptly everyone looked to him, then followed his fixed stare to the bar. They all jerked. "What are _they_ doing here?" Quistis muttered, one hand going to the whip on her belt.

Even given the wide range of patrons, the pair that had just entered should have drawn more attention than they did. The man, as tall and wide as Lank but with darker hair and complexion, towered over the whip-thin, silver-haired woman. Their backs were to the SeeD' table, but they didn't need to see her eyepatch to recognize their former comrades.

"Fujin and Raijin," Zell growled. "Think they're still tagging along with Seifer?"

"Easy, Zell," Quistis murmured. "I don't see Seifer, and they aren't causing trouble."

"They seem to be known," Squall observed, noting Raijin gesturing to the barkeep in a friendly manner.

"Mercenaries do hang out here," Rinoa began.

She was interrupted, not by any noise, but rather a sudden hush descending over the crowd as five Galbadian soldiers marched through one of the side doors. Everybody made such an effort not to meet the men's eyes that it would have been less obvious simply to stare. Ignoring the quiet, four of the guards strode to side table, grabbed the collars of the two seated there, and yanked them to their feet. The fifth, a red-armored lieutenant, announced loudly, "Malkon Amethyst, you and your comrade are under arrest!"

The quiet deepened to an instant of utter silence. "What for?" one of the men yelped, struggling fruitlessly. "Man, I've got rights!" he screeched as the guards shoved him and his associate toward the door. "We're citizens! What's the charge?"

The soldiers said nothing, until Raijin tapped the officer's arm. "Hey, lieutenant, what's up? We're just here for a quiet drink, ya know?"

The lieutenant wheeled, then saw who had addressed him and immediately straightened. "Official government business, Master Raijin."

"_Master_ Raijin?" Zell hissed.

"You and Ms Fujin can enjoy yourselves. We'll be gone in a moment," the officer was saying. "As long as these traitors come quietly—"

"TRAITORS?" Fujin rasped.

The lieutenant jumped backward, then flailed for composure. "Yes, Mistress Fujin, we've got it on good authority that Malkon's a ringleader behind the police station bombing. Come along, now." He gestured hastily to his men.

"Well, if it's government business, it's none of ours, ya know," Raijin said sagely.

"But it is ours."

The soldiers with their prisoners spun around. The crowd parted to reveal six black-garbed figures who had appeared in the back, each wielding a stunner. "Release them," the leader ordered.

"Get out of here," snarled the lieutenant.

Tension was building in the air. Across the restaurant, weapons were suddenly not so concealed. "We've got to _do_ something!" muttered Zell.

"Do what?" Squall asked. "Who do we help?"

Two of the soldiers had their guns trained on the newcomers. "Hey," Raijin said, stepping before them with his hands raised. "Keep it peaceful, ya know?"

"BUSINESS," Fujin said, and promptly kicked him in the back of the knee. Raijin went down—and one of the black-clothed figures fired over his head, stunning a guard.

It was all that was needed for all hell to break loose. While the first shot was clear, whoever threw the first punch was lost in the tumult which instantly exploded. An attack on the Galbadian soldiers was in no time a full-blown free-for-all, fortunately keeping more to fists than weaponry. Breaking away from the central knot of fighters, Raijin limped back to his comrade, knocking patrons aside left and right. Fujin stood ramrod straight against the bar, juggling her shuriken in her hand as she debated where it could be most effectively applied.

The six SeeD and Rinoa stood by their table and watched. Having no way to tell sides—not that this stopped anyone else—they did nothing, though all reached for their arms when the Galbadian police joined the fray. Bottles started to fly, along with plates and silverware. Squall was considering ordering a discreet retreat when an airborne chair soared toward them. Zell pushed Sashi back, just in time; the chair smashed to splinters against the wall an inch above her brunette head.

"How dare you!" Zell yelled, and vaulting the table he plunged into the thick of the melee. Before Squall could speak, Irvine sprang after him, and Selphie was hot on his heels, her whirling nunchakus cutting a swathe through the combatants.

Quistis shrugged, uncoiled her whip, and inclined her head to Sashi. "Shall we?"

"He—he saved me!" the girl gasped. "Zell!" Pushing up her blouse's long silk sleeves, she hurtled into the fight.

Rinoa stuck by Squall, both of them dodging missiles and fists with ease. "Squall!" she cried as she ducked, "you've gotta—" broke off to block a kick and resumed, "—stop this!"

"How?" Squall demanded, as a table leg whistled past. He could barely make out his friends through the melee, though he caught a glimpse of Zell pushing toward Raijin. That didn't bode well. But what could he do? Bringing magic or a guardian force into the battle would only make things worse. "Stop!" he called experimentally, to no effect.

"SeeD, quit fighting!" he tried again. Rinoa threw him a shrug and a smile, then yelped as a well-aimed pewter stein shattered the lantern over her head. She flung herself back as the glass shards burst out, slamming into a slight man behind her. Both went down.

"Rinoa!" Squall shouted, and pulled his gunblade. "_Stop_!"

Everyone did.

Lionheart's brilliant blue was ghostly in the abrupt pause. Every fighter near Squall and Rinoa took a few involuntary steps backward, leaving an empty circle where the light shimmered on the scuffed floor. The rest were motionless, some frozen mid-strike. All eyes were on the gunblade, and not a few were saluting—all SeeD, Squall noted, doing a quick visual sweep of the crowd, but also a number of others who were not possibly under his command. And every face, patrons, SeeD, and Galbadian soldiers alike, held the same look of awe, trepidation, and, oddly, recognition.

Excepting his friends, whose expressions showed chiefly consternation. And Fujin and Raijin; Fujin was cool as ever, and Raijin's open mouth was more surprised than amazed.

They all were quiet, though. Waiting, he realized, when Rinoa nudged him surreptitiously. Squall cleared his throat. "Thank you." Several people were pointing in his direction and whispering. He didn't know what that meant, let alone what he should do about it. "...Soldiers, if you're done, you can leave."

They had no reason to obey him, but they did, all edging for the doors. Without the men they had arrested, he realized; those two notables had vanished in the confusion. Fujin and Raijin remained by the bar, with Zell a few feet away, trying to look like he wasn't glaring at them.

Before Squall could decide what to do about that, the problem was solved for him. "Fujin, Raijin. There you are."

They and everyone else looked to the golden-haired man at the main entrance. Even from his distance, Squall could see Zell's fists clench, and Quistis adjusted her grip on her whip. The crowd shifted uneasily, though several nodded with respect.

Seifer Almasy paid them no attention. He waited silently, a tall, handsome, young man, as always clothed in the crosses of the knights of old. His bearing and the gunblade in the scabbard at his side also might have belonged to the ancient heroes; the scar across his forehead lent him a maturity belied by the youthful arrogance in his eyes. That blue gaze locked with Squall's, but Seifer's gunblade remained sheathed.

Raijin and Fujin paced over as he raised one hand. "Go about your business," he addressed the tavern; then he looked again to his former rival. "Enjoy your stay in Galbadia, SeeD. Try to keep them under control, Commander Squall." Turning on his heel, he strode out, his long coat flaring behind him. His cohorts followed.

Squall released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and returned Lionheart to its sheath. A hand lightly touched his arm. Rinoa, gazing curiously after Seifer.

"'Keep us under control'!" Zell stalked back to the table, smoldering. "Why the hell is Seifer in Galbadia, anyway?"

"He needs a leash," Quistis agreed, waving her whip suggestively.

"You know him?" Lank returned to the table with the others. "Reckon you would, at that—they say he's former SeeD."

"Wannabe SeeD, you mean," Selphie sniffed.

"Huh." The proprietor aimed a sideways look at their commander as a waiter set about clearing away the broken plates. "So you are him. Squall. Thought you might be, by the scar and the scabbard, but I didn't want to say anything. Well! You weren't exaggerating about this past year, were you, Rinoa?"

"What do you mean? You know Squall?"

"I know of him. All of you, I expect. There was a bard here a month back, trying to write a song of your battle with the Sorceress. She wasn't the first, either."

"A ballad?"

"About _us_?"

"Cool!"

"Wow!"

"...Whatever."

Rinoa's hands were tightly clasped in her lap. "What Sorceress?"

"What's that?" Lank squinted at her. "The Sorceress you fought, of course. She who would've been Queen of our sorry state. I've heard her called Edea and Adel most often—there's not a single part of the story anyone can agree upon. Except that you did us a great favor in defeating her—and there's those who'd argue even that." He shook his head, sighing. "It's a terrible truth, that our great and noble leaders would rather have accepted her power, forgetting all its evil. Maybe you can remind them of it—they won't listen to us."

"Is that what the arrest attempt was about?" asked Rinoa.

"Aye, and they aren't the first." Lank's broad face was rigid as a statue's. "We're a people in turmoil, and it's only darkened since the Sorceress fell." Just as quickly he shook off the mood, his customary grin returning. "But I reckon off-duty soldiers have no need to talk of grim affairs. The Missus keeps the kitchens running come hell or high water; that little scuffle won't have slowed her cooks the least—you'll have your meal soon enough."

Sashi, tenderly prodding the bruise forming over Zell's cheekbone, raised an eyebrow. "'Little scuffle'?"

 

* * *

They didn't get anything more out of Lank, neither about the arrest attempt nor their old mates' presence in Deling City. But when Squall, Zell, and Quistis entered the Galbadian council hall the next day, Seifer was there, seated at the right hand of the Minister of War.

It was too late to send Zell back. Squall hoped his friend could control himself. Quistis would cause no trouble; Zell wouldn't intentionally, but his temper often got the best of him, especially around Seifer. Squall had asked them both to stay quiet unless he called for them to speak, but under pressure Zell might forget that. He was a great fighter and a great friend, but not the most level-headed of individuals. If only there had been some way to justify bringing Rinoa; she might not be SeeD, technically, and she could be as volatile as Zell, but he could use her insight. And it rooted him somehow, made him feel more a part of wherever he was, when he was with her.

Alone, he walked onto the dais ringed by the council's table and faced the man in the central chair. "President Deling. I'm Squall Leonhart, SeeD Commander."

The President, a large, black-haired, amber-eyed man, nodded ponderously. "Greetings, Commander. You and your people are welcome to Galbadia. Thank you for responding so swiftly. As for our request." He glanced over his ministers, then past them. In the corner of his eye, Squall saw a pair seated in the first row of the empty audience tiers. A woman in dark green, and a man in a beige suit less formal than the council's conservatively cut jackets and ties. Though this part of the council meeting was not open to the public, Squall was just as glad he and his teammates had come in full SeeD uniform, as Rinoa had suggested. While inexperienced in the art of politics, he understood enough to know appearances mattered.

Ferdid Deling was speaking in stentorian tones that reminded Squall of Vinzer. "You may have heard of the terrorist bombing of the city's main police station last week. This is not the first such incident; nor is the capital the only place hit. Over the past year such vicious, cowardly attacks have become increasingly prevalent throughout our nation and our holding provinces. Our citizens live in greater fear every day. Trade is difficult when merchants fear attack and our ports and stations are damaged. We are a strong people, but even the most powerful tree cannot grow when insects eat away at the trunk from within the bark.

"We're doing all we can, but our forces were weakened by the Sorceress. In light of this, we prevail on you. SeeD is well-known for accepting difficult tasks; routing out these terrorist revolutionaries isn't a normal duty for mercenaries, but frankly, we have no one else to turn to. We're willing to pay whatever price you ask, and we'll board all your people, wherever they need to be, until the job's done."

Squall stood still for a minute, considering it. "You want to hire us to find the people responsible for the attacks?"

"Yes. Everyone in the circles—there's more than one group. The ministers of War and Internal Matters will tell you more when you're officially contracted."

"Why are these circles attacking?"

He saw a couple of the ministers react angrily, brows lowering and shoulders stiffening. Ferdid's countenance remained placid. "They have different demands. They're confused." His tone changed, from an official speaker's to one more expressive, more personal. "To be blunt, much has been a mess recently. The Sorceress's appointment—which you know something of—threw everyone into hysteria, and her murder of the President stirred up the chaos. I admit that I myself am part of the problem. As our lifelong President, Vinzer Deling should have ruled for another decade at least; there are some who oppose me now because of that. They'll stand in the way of progress because they can't take or don't want to accept the future."

Squall remembered hearing that argument some time ago, before he became SeeD. Then it had supported Galbadia's ceaseless expansionism, a reason for their continued holding of Timber and their attack on Dollet. Those who weren't powerful enough to defend were told to accept their future as a Galbadian holding. Superficially, Timber and the others had to, their forces too weak to throw off that rule. But it didn't stop those peoples from revolting in every small way possible. Including terrorist attacks, if necessary, and resistant groups had scraped together the money to hire SeeD for some attempts. How many of these attacks now were in support of those causes? The council did seem cagey about the actual demands of the revolutionaries.

It wasn't a question he could ask outright, however, though not long ago he would have been tempted to. Diplomacy meant using other channels to learn the truth. "We'll consider your petition," he said.

Quistis was gesturing covertly. With his permission, she stepped forward. "If I may ask, Mr. President, how many casualties have there been in these attacks?"

This time Ferdid didn't quite quash the anger. He quickly forced his squared jaw into a smile. "Of course you can ask, young lady. Fortunately there's been relatively few. However, there have been deaths, and the property damage is astronomical. And we fear our luck will soon end as far as our citizens go. These circles are clever campaigners, but they don't care for anything but their own ends. People are only pawns to them, and if they decide murder will support their causes better, they won't hesitate to kill."

Squall nodded, thinking as he did that the same could easily be said about most governments. Including this one, he imagined. Galbadia had been ruthless in its conquests even before the Sorceress's rule. He knew it was that rule, and the attack on the Gardens, that fueled some of his feelings, but it was also simple reason. Politicians tended to care for people's votes more than their persons. Not all, he admitted to himself, thinking of Esthar's president. But most...still, it was a petition, and he had to consider it as open-mindedly as he could. Even if his gut was telling him to reject the offer there and then. "We'll decide within the next three days."

"Thank you," said the President with formal gratitude, and extended his hand toward the SeeD commander. Squall turned and left without a word, Quistis behind him. Zell, leaping forward, pumped energetically, then jogged after his friends.

Two others caught up with them in the building's lobby. Squall recognized the green and beige of the pair auditing the meeting, and gave them a closer look. The woman was striking, certainly. Her long dress swept the floor and rose to cover her slender arms and neck, yet the velvet hardly concealed the well-formed curves beneath. Carefully styled auburn hair fell in waves down her back, braided with tiny golden charms to match her narrow throat chain. Yet none of this ornamentation detracted from her eyes, like the palest sapphires in a setting of dark red lashes, gazing boldly out of her smooth, oval face.

"If I may have a word with you, Commander," she murmured in a low alto.

Squall indicated for Zell and Quistis to go on ahead and faced her. "I am First Lady Jezikan," she told him, "Ferdid Deling's wife. I only wish to ask that you consider my husband's petition in our favor. The palace has been spared by those...people, but I fear..." Her musical voice caught a little. "I fear something may happen. Especially to my husband; there are those who hate him..." She trailed off, her rose cheeks paling, and placed one hand on his arm as if to steady herself. "Please," she breathed.

He looked at her, and then down at the hand clutching his jacket.

"We will pay you," she whispered, low in her throat, "in whatever coin you wish."

He looked back up. She was a tall woman; her eyes were level with his, half-lidded but intense.

"Milady," murmured the man, and she withdrew as he bowed to Squall. In the lady's shadow he was less noticeable than he might have been alone. The light tan of his suit was darker yet than his fair skin and still fairer hair. It shone like white gold in the sun, and if not for the faint pink flush his skin might have been marble. His face and body had the aesthetic, slender fragility of classical sculpture. But if he were a statue, his eyes were carved from onyx, a blue so black the irises could have been mistaken for pupils. There was something dangerous in those eyes, too dark to be read.

"My lord commander," the man breathed, "it is...an _honor_ to meet you. I scarce imagined I would have the chance." He daintily held out one white hand, the fingers dangling like limp petals.

Squall regarded the offer silently. Jezikan laughed prettily and batted the man's hand away. "Oh, he's not the time for that, Dahl." She turned back to Squall, the gold charms twinkling in her hair. "You must excuse Lord Dahl. He's quite the follower of warriors and battles. I'm afraid you're something of a hero to him, Commander."

"It's...nice to meet you," Squall said, realizing something was required of him before they would let him go.

"Charmed," purred the woman.

"Oh, _indeed_," Dahl gushed. "Wonderful—it was quite worth your coming just to see that Garden float down from the clouds, as if a jewel from the heavens! Even if you don't accept our petition—well, you have your _reasons_. You've done so many deeds; asking you for any more, it's practically overkill."

Squall tried to tell if he were serious. The lord's smile was so vapid and his prattle so light it must have been affected, but who except an idiot would affect an idiot's demeanor? He knew more than one important personage who were quite intelligent but nonetheless fools. Dahl might be sincere, or sarcastic, or he might only be kissing up; it didn't affect Squall one way or another. Did it matter?

But his eyes were unreadable. And the SeeD couldn't shake the impression of danger beyond their opaque ebon surface.

"It was an honor and a pleasure, Commander," the lord said, and with another bow retreated to the council chamber.

"Please, if you have need of anything, only ask," Jezikan said. "Or even if you only want." She lightly pressed her fingers to his glove, a butterfly's touch, and then she was gone in a swirl of green skirts. The scent of lavender lingered after the click of her heels on the tile faded.

Squall sighed and started back to the Garden, wishing Rinoa had come with him.

 

* * *

Once at his office, Squall called a meeting with what most SeeD referred to as the 'inner circle'—Rinoa and his closest comrades in SeeD, plus Xu and a few trusted others. A short discussion of the Galbadian petition proved his uncertainty was shared by all. "It stinks," was Zell's major contribution. "Like a week-old fish." The others, though less blunt about it, seemed to be in agreement.

He assigned them to investigate various angles of the petition. Once they were dispatched, Squall tried to contact Cid. His communication to the orphanage was immediately answered. "Hello?"

Squall frowned. The person responding could not have been more than ten, a round-faced, pig-tailed imp of a girl. One of Edea's adopted children, now living at the orphanage since Ellone's SeeD ship had been retired. The girl's violet eyes went very large as she stared at her screen. "Wow wow! You're _him_!" Pulling herself so straight he suspected she was standing on her toes, she executed a reasonable facsimile of a salute. "What do you want, Mr. Commander Squall?"

"Please get Mr. Kramer," Squall said.

She vanished. A minute later a face he knew popped onto his screen—not the one he had asked for, though. A man, but rather younger than Cid Kramer, in a cap. "May I help you, sir—oh, it _is_ you, sir! Hello, good morning! Can I help you?"

Squall refrained from sighing. "Hello, Watt. I'm trying to talk to Cid. It's important. Is he there?"

"Well, actually, no, sir." Watt scratched the back of his head. "He's not. Can I take a message?"

"Where is he?...forget it. Is Edea there?"

Watt nodded earnestly. "I think she's talking with Zone. I'll go get her right away, sir." He rushed off.

The moment he was gone the girl returned, along with two other children. The oldest, a skinny, black-haired boy, squinted at Squall suspiciously through thick glasses. "Are you _really_ Commander Leonhart?"

"Yes."

The suspicion vanished like hot dogs in front of Zell. "Oh, cool! Can we see your gunblade? Is it really five feet long? Do you—"

"Mak, Palli, Danna," someone called offscreen, quietly but with enough force that all three children instantly snapped to attention. "Go finish your lessons, now. Thank you for answering the call, Danna."

He heard the girl chirp, "You're welcome, Matron," as the kids ran off, and then Edea came into view. Petite and elegant, her long, black hair still had no gray, and her face was a match to his faded childhood memories. No longer bearing the weight of the sorceress's powers, she appeared much younger than her husband, though she was always more somber and that evened things out.

Squall bowed his head. "Hello, Matron."

She smiled, quiet but gentle. "Hello, Squall. You wanted to talk with Cid, didn't you? I'm afraid he's at Fisherman's Horizon now."

"...Oh. Why...Never mind. Can I contact him there?"

"You can contact him. As for why, he's overseeing the renovations on Galbadia Garden. He had some concerns." She paused. When he said nothing she went on, "It's already night there. You might want to wait for your evening to try. How urgent is this?"

"It can wait until then."

"Good. He needs his sleep." Edea smiled. "Make sure you get some, too. You and Rinoa and the others are all in good health? I'm glad. Good luck, Squall. I hope Cid can help you, but I know you'd do well regardless."

"Thank you, Matron," he said, and meant it. He was nearly smiling when he disconnected, not quite as confused, some measure of confidence restored. It wasn't what she said exactly, or even how she said it; it was that she had said it at all. He didn't question Matron. She believed in him, and he wouldn't, couldn't, betray that trust.

 

* * *

"What kind of monster commands the SeeD, anyway?"

Jezikan was in a fine temper. She had maintained her poise for the rest of the council meeting, but once she had returned to her chambers all semblance of calm was lost. Her maids, familiar with these occasional flashes, wisely fled, taking the more fragile curios from the room as they did. Once she had stripped off her dress and torn the ornaments from her hair, the lady stalked to her closets to choose a new costume. Rejected garments were flung across the room as she snarled to herself.

Dahl, slipping in through his regular side entrance, narrowly missed getting slapped by a copper-trimmed sleeve. He caught the attacking gown and laid it carefully across the bed, then settled himself beside it. "It could have gone worse," he remarked.

"How?" Jezikan whirled on him. Dahl wondered if she was aware of how attractively her eyes sparkled when she was angry, how enticingly her bosom heaved. Almost definitely. She wouldn't miss a trick like that. "How could it have gone worse? Maybe if he were a woman—or a ceramic doll!" She flounced across the room to pick up the last dress thrown, pulling it on with short, violent jerks. "He's a _boy_, Dahl! Not even as old as our so-wonderful Knight. I should've had him wrapped around my finger before I even spoke."

"Like you did with the Knight?" Dahl reminded her.

"I wasn't trying with him," snapped Jezikan. "He's not important enough to bother. But this commander—what went wrong? What's wrong with him? A boy that callow, and his expression never changed once!"

"Maybe he is too young. Or maybe _I_ should give it a try," the fair man suggested with a smirk. "We don't know which way his tastes swing."

"I suppose." Slightly mollified, she concentrated on tying the dress's lace sleeves.

Dahl came up behind her to assist. "It doesn't matter anyway," he remarked as his dexterous fingers worked. "I've met him now. Enough, I think."

"It better be enough." Jezikan turned her head enough to see him, keeping still while he arranged the dress. "They aren't going to go along with it. I could see that much on his face. They don't trust us."

"But we'll still go ahead with it?"

"Yes," she said. "We suspected this would be the case, and Ferdid knows it too. He's taking action tonight, if he can." When Dahl paused in irritation, she reached back to stroke his cheek. "At least we have them here. We've come too far now; even the SeeD and their stone commander won't be able to stop us." Her eyes narrowed spitefully as her fingers combed the warlock's ashen hair. "And I'll laugh when he tries."

 

* * *

The SeeD commander was known to have impressive patience, especially given his youth. But bureaucracies had broken stronger than even him. It was fortunate Rinoa came when she did, or else Squall might have given in to his rising temptation to smash his fist through the communicator. When he heard the knock he gratefully raised his head, not caring who it was. Any interruption would be better than this. "Come in."

"Doing anything important?" she inquired. "I want to tell you something."

"Tell me. There's time." He glanced at the still screen. "They've had me on hold for twenty minutes."

"What are you doing?" She came around the desk to peer over his shoulder. "Contacting Fisherman's Horizon? Why?"

"Cid's there."

"Oh. Because of Galbadia Garden? I wonder how that's going—you should ask him."

"I will. But I have to report the situation here first."

Rinoa nodded, taking a step back. "That's what I came about. You asked me to talk with Lank about the revolutionaries."

"Yes. Is that—"

"That's fine. If anyone knows anything, he would, and he'll tell me. I can tell him why I need to know, right? Then it'll be okay. He likes me, and he respects you, Squall. And he'll want the SeeD on the right side. So it's not a problem. I just wanted to tell you that I might not be back tonight. Talking with Lank might take a while, and then..." She looked down, toeing the floor. "I might visit my dad. If he'll let me."

"Rinoa..."

"He will, I'm pretty sure. He loves me. I just...I haven't seen him at all since last year. There's a lot I need to talk about with him. Things I need to tell him about. Like the Sorceress. And you." She glanced up again, almost shyly. "So I'm going. Just wanted to let you know, so you don't worry if I'm not back tonight."

"Thank you."

She hesitated a mere instant, rocking back on her heels. "Oh...and I'm going somewhere else. A friend left me a message; he wants to see me tonight. I think I'm going to. Is that all right?"

"Why ask me? It isn't my business—" The communicator beeped. Squall broke off as the screen flashed to life, asking the lady who came on, "Is Cid Kramer there?"

"Who is this?" demanded the woman.

He told her. Rinoa propped her elbows on the desk and watched as the woman, after verifying his identity, asked him to wait. The screen returned to the holding pattern. Squall banged his fists down on either side of the com. "They still don't like us; they're doing everything they can to delay, even when I told them it was important. Damn it. I hate this." He noticed Rinoa was smiling. "What?"

"Just thinking. A year ago you never would've admitted that. You'd have kept it all in here." She poked his forehead with one finger. "You're more fun when you let yourself be human."

He sighed. "This is driving me nuts. She didn't even say how long it'd be."

"You'll get through eventually. Good luck. I guess I should go, Lank will feed me dinner. You're sure you don't mind me seeing Seifer?"

"No, that's your—Seifer?!"

Rinoa had the grace to look embarrassed. "He's the friend. He sent a message a little while ago—it must have been right after the council meeting ended. He wants to talk with me tonight. Only an hour, he asked for. He swore on his honor no harm would come to me—he can be awfully formal, when he wants to be."

"Rinoa, you said a friend—Seifer..."

"He was my friend," said Rinoa, as soft as Matron and just as undeniable. "He was more to me, once."

Once. At one time he might have been. A year divided then from now, and much pain. Battles and betrayal. Seifer had become the Sorceress's Knight; he had stood first at her side, fought for her and lead her troops against them. And when Ultimecia demanded it, he had given Rinoa to Adel, brought a girl he had perhaps at one time liked to the mouth of the beast and thrown her to it. Not smiling. But he had done it. He was no friend to her. No friend to any of them.

Though he said nothing, it must have been visible on his face. Rinoa reached for his hand, caught it. "Squall, it wasn't his fault, not entirely. Ultimecia was controlling him—I think she always was, a little. Even when he was young, giving him that dream through Edea. She wanted a knight and she chose him. Like she chose me to do her evil...I know what it's like, to be controlled like that. How it feels not to be able to do anything, not even to fight it—to barely be aware of yourself. I understand what it was like for him. Maybe he wants to apologize now. And I want to forgive him."

"Maybe. You don't know. Even if she was controlling him for a little while, it's still Seifer."

"People change." Rinoa laughed, barely audibly. "I hate talking in cliches. But we do. We grow up, we get older, and things happen. I thought I had everything figured out, and then I met Seifer. And then you, and then Ultimecia...and I'm the Sorceress now. I'm not Ultimecia, but I'm not Rinoa Heartilly, either. Not the same one."

"I know." He wondered if he could have loved that Rinoa as much. That princess of the Timber Forest Owls, bold and giddy and somehow much younger than she was now. And she had known Seifer then, when he was only an arrogant SeeD cadet.

At one time Squall never would have noticed the differences, never would have cared. Rinoa wasn't the only one who had changed. Still, Seifer...

"I'll be fine," she said. "I'm not going unarmed, and I'm junctioning more magic than Seifer could even hold. You don't need to worry."

"I'm not," he denied, too quickly. "You shouldn't be in danger. If he gave his word, he'll probably keep it. But—"

"I'll be careful." She let go of his hand, and then, without warning, she leapt on him, flinging her arms around his neck as she had when they first officially met, on the train in Timber. She was no longer leading a revolution, and he wasn't her hired mercenary, but some things wouldn't change. Though he hadn't put his arms around her then the way he did now. And she hadn't rested her head on his shoulder, murmuring, "You really don't need to worry. I liked Seifer. But I love you, Squall. That's never going to change."

At his desk the communicator chirruped. Rinoa released him. "Duty calls. Mine and yours."

"Be careful, please," he told her, and with a thumb's up and a smile she was gone.

 

* * *

In a private corner of the Minotaur's Horn and with only Rinoa, Lank was willing to talk. Most of what he had to say was no surprise to Rinoa, who had spent most of her life exposed to the hairy politics of Galbadia. The past year was reaching new levels of discord, she soon learned, of which Sorceress Edea's rule and the President's assassination were only overtures. The major problem now had a name, apparently—"Not Ferdid," Lank told her. "He's bad, but he's only a minnow. The shark... Maybe Jezikan, his wife—some would rather he were married to the sorceress herself. No few of the revolutionaries want Ferdid out because it will get _her_ that much further away from power. She's a poison, and those they call terrorists are cutting to bleed out her venom. We're—I mean, they're hurting as few people as possible; if there were any other way to make them listen they'd do it. They're trying to save this nation, these 'terrorists' are."

Rinoa couldn't make guarantees, but she promised Lank she would tell Squall everything, and she was fairly certain SeeD would reject the petition. Squall didn't like it much anyway. She wondered how Cid had advised him; the former headmaster wasn't in Galbadia, but he still might understand the situation. And Squall would in the end make his own decision—it would be the right one. She had no doubt of that.

Seifer's designated meeting place was several blocks away. Rather than take the bus, she walked, seeing with her own eyes how much had changed since she was young. Very little; it might feel like years ago, but she was barely an adult, her childhood still close. The streets were darker than they had been, with many streetlamps smashed and not replaced, and more police and guards on patrol. But the shops' windows still shone well into the night, and the crowds were resplendent as always.

She heard a howl somewhere behind her. Automatically she reached for her shooting star, then realized the call had a familiar ring. Turning, she found a large brown and white dog bounding toward her, its red tongue dangling between dripping canines.

Rinoa frowned. "Angelo!" She crouched as pedestrians cleared out of the animal's path. "Here, boy. Heel!" The dog halted before her and thrust his wet nose into her hair, panting eagerly. "You're not a good dog," she informed him, scratching behind his ears. "You were supposed to stay at the Garden." Not that Angelo ever did. The one command he had never completely mastered was 'stay.' If she went with others he would usually remain behind, moping. But if he knew she was alone, or in a dangerous situation, he tended to pop up, regardless of what she had told him to do.

"You aren't going to go home, are you? Come on, then." The dog at her heels, she set off again. On her way to meet with Seifer. Seifer Almasy, former SeeD cadet, former Sorceress's Knight. Former friend...maybe more. Had she loved him? She wasn't quite sure. She knew he had never loved her. And what she had felt that summer with him was nothing compared to what she felt with Squall now. It had been exciting, and fun, and she had craved it desperately, just the idea of being in love. Now, though...she didn't know if she was in love. That was a light feeling, giddy and absorbing. What she had now, what she and Squall had, wasn't only emotion. It was reality; it was being. She loved him, and was loved by him, and everything they were was multiplied a thousand times over for it.

But Seifer had been a friend if nothing else. And she wondered how much of what he had later become was her own fault. If she hadn't asked him to Timber, asked him to attack Vinzer Deling, might the Sorceress never have found him? Never have taken him to be her Knight, banishing everything else he might have been. He had given his soul to Ultimecia, and now that she was gone, what did he have left?

The message he had left her, voice only, hadn't sounded like the Seifer she had once known. Still brazen, not begging, and calm without being peaceful. But there was something missing in the baritone, something broken. The confidence that she had admired in him, the feeling that he could take on the world and maybe come out on top, that was gone. He had no challenge now, nothing to fight for, his dream irrevocably shattered.

Angelo whimpered and bumped his head against her hip. Startled out of her thoughts, she stroked her pet's head. "What is it?"

The dog whined again, then growled, deep in his throat. Instantly Rinoa raised her arm, the straps of her shooting star tightening around the flexed muscle. With her back to the closest building, she scanned the faces of the passing people. Her battle-ready stance was winning her a few odd looks, but nothing suspicious—

The prick was no worse than an insect's sting, but when she looked down a tuft of green feathers protruded from her arm. She wrenched the dart out, her head already spinning. Angelo growled as two soldiers marched up. One of the armored men flicked his hand; sparks from his fingers flew into the dog's eyes.

Rinoa felt the energy surge. Fire magic. With a pained howl, Angelo ran. Not far, but enough that the other soldier could take her arm. "Are you feeling all right, Miss? Here, come with us."

She tried to tear away. "No—stop! Help!" In her mind she summoned the magic to cleanse herself, esuna's power driving away the dart's drug. Then there was another prick, and with it the whisper of a sleep spell. That darkness fell too fast to banish.

The soldiers caught her as she crumpled. Just a young lady who must have over-indulged, swooning on the streets. Nothing anyone would deign to notice, especially when she had guards to protect her. Only Angelo tried to stop them. Another sleep spell knocked the dog out cold. The soldiers left him lying in an alley, and spirited their prize away.


	3. Pawns

As much as Squall pondered Cid's words, he did not grow more comfortable with them.

"I don't have all the answers, Squall."

Of course he didn't. The gods themselves couldn't answer every question that could be asked. And Cid was a mortal man—too mortal. It hadn't been on a whim that he had stepped down from SeeD leadership; his health had forced the decision on him. One day, eventually, he would have no answers at all, except the final one.

But not now. Not for a long time yet, Squall believed. Hoped. The Gardens without Cid—who could replace him? Who would?

...No. Too much to think about. Instead he concentrated on the Galbadian situation. Cid had given advice, nothing more. Once contacted, the former headmaster was perfectly willing to talk—but that was all. "SeeD is under your command, Squall," Cid had told him. "This is your decision. Would you serve Galbadia better by following the government's demands, or rejecting them?"

"I don't know."

"You'll have to find out, then. I'm not there; I'm not in a position to understand the situation. You are. It's your responsibility to decide, I suggest as soon as possible. There are others also in need of SeeD. Think hard. I know you'll make the right choice."

There was little Squall could say to that. He broke the connection, then realized he had never broached Cid's reasons for being in FH.

Irvine entered an instant after that occurred to him. His interruption coming on top of everything else, Squall didn't even let him get a sentence into his report. "Can't this wait?"

"Not according to you, it can't. You said you wanted whatever we found out as soon as we found it. I've talked with a couple buddies in the country. Sounds like the revolutionaries are more popular than the real government, out there, anyway. Of course that could be just 'cause of taxes—"

"I'll take that under consideration," Squall cut him off.

"Whoa!" Irvine folded his arms. "Should I salt my hat, or do you want to bite my head off without any fixings? What's up, Commander?"

As shortly as possible, Squall told him Cid's response. The sharpshooter shook his head. "Damn, you're really stuck in this leader-thing, aren't you? Good thing you can handle it." Irvine glanced at him pointedly. "You know, we all trust you for a reason. You always come through. Cid knew what he was doing when he put you in charge."

Squall almost protested it. True, he had been managing adequately. But there had been no emergencies, no questions. Even when fighting the Sorceress, the most difficult battle of his life, his duty had been clear. Now...

"Still." Irvine thoughtfully tipped back his hat. "I think it was a bad choice for you. Great for the rest of us, but you're getting the short end of the stick. You don't get to have fun, because you have to be a leader. Responsible and mature and all. Your birthday's after mine, but sometimes you're like a million years older. Even though you're awfully young to be a commander. Does that bother you, how everyone hiring us is older?"

"...Kind of."

It doesn't bother _them_, usually. We're heroes. They don't think of us as kids. When I was little, I always wanted to be grown up, but life was a hell of a lot easier before."

Squall had never thought of life being easy or hard. He couldn't remember wanting to grow up—not that he hadn't wanted to, either. If he lived, he would become an adult; what he wanted or thought about that meant nothing. Yet he understood what Irvine was clumsily expressing. "Responsibility makes things more complicated."

"You're telling me." Slouching in a chair, the SeeD swiveled it idly.

"If that's all..."

Irvine straightened marginally without standing. "Any reason you're chasing me out, commander sir? Like, Rinoa's coming up? Or is she already here—"

He made a show of peering over the desk. Squall rested his forehead against his hand. "No. Rinoa's not here. She's...meeting with Seifer."

"_Ah_," said Irvine, in the tone of one greatly enlightened. "So that's it. She mentioned she was planning to go—glad she told you. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I'm not worried—"

"She can take on Seifer, easy, if he's going for a fight. And if he's not, he just wants to talk. She was a little worried you'd be jealous, but that's not your style, and you don't have any reason to be anyway. Rinoa might've liked Seifer way back when, but she loves you. You just keep that in mind. Know it won't make the cold, lonely night any shorter, but it's something special." Irvine winked as he strode out the door.

The reports could wait until morning, and he needed the time to think. Squall decided to retire to his quarters before any more friends arrived to cheer him up.

Though his lights were on most of the night, he came to no definite conclusions. And Irvine was right. The night was long, and when he finally slept, it was as cold as space, and as empty.

 

* * *

There was no light, and around her were voices of people she had never met. She couldn't make out their words, and when she tried to speak her mouth felt like it was filled with rubber. She raised her hands to pull the mask away, but her hands wouldn't move, like dead logs her arms were, and then she realized her eyes were open but she still saw only blackness. She was paralyzed and she was blind, and deaf except for the strangers' voices, and the mask suffocated her scream...

Even drugged and spelled, the girl struggled against the bonds tying her to the bed. Dahl shook his head at her weak motions. Half that dosage of tranquilizer or the hold spell alone should have kept her comatose, and yet she fought both. The minor mage stationed outside had to constantly renew the spell, lest she break it. The strength of her magic, or her will, was formidable. And no surprise, considering who she was. What she was.

He turned to the other men in the cramped room. "I won't do it. I already told you."

"Warlock." Ferdid made the title a curse. "You will do what's necessary—"

"It's too dangerous," Dahl snapped. "She's the Sorceress. Do you have any idea the power that implies?" She didn't look it, he had to admit. Only a slip of a girl, pale and pretty but not approaching Jezikan's elegance. She looked as if Ferdid could snap her in two between his large hands. Her closed eyelids twitched as she shifted, her dark hair falling across her face and over the pillow in damp, limp tendrils.

"Of course we know!" The doctor's heavily accented voice was brimming with outrage. "Without that power, this endeavor would be useless! Utterly pointless! But if we can tap it..." He bent over the girl, peering at her intently. "Or find its source—I have found ways to block it, yes, but producing it, ah, that is the puzzle—"

"Doctor," Ferdid said, "please keep the task at hand in mind. We called the SeeD to get her. Can you complete the device now that you have her?"

"I might, I might. We shall have to see, shan't we?"

"If you can hold her long enough," Dahl muttered, watching the girl slowly twist against the binding cords.

Ferdid's brow lowered. "If you'd use your power—"

"Forget the abomination, Lord President," said the doctor. "We have no need of his tricks."

"I'm only as abominable as you made me, doctor," Dahl snarled. "And my power is no spell your trinkets can defend against. Don't drive me to test it on you again." As if weary of threats his anger abruptly faded. He tossed his pale hair back, gesturing like a fop. "These confines are stifling. If there's nothing else, President Deling, I'll leave."

Ferdid watched him exit. "He's more dangerous than this girl, I'll wager," he growled once the lord was gone.

"A matter of perspective, my Lord President," the doctor jabbered. "Danger and power are close, but not the same. This child here, she is great in both, and we must use both to the maximum. And court danger ourselves, while we gather power." He hovered over her proprietarily, stubby fingers not quite touching her brow. "A fascinating study, even if it does not succeed. Do not fear, my Lord President; the device will be completed yet. With all its power and danger, yes. As much power as you desire. As much as anyone desires."

 

* * *

Squall awoke with a vague uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if something wasn't digesting right, though he hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. It was barely dawn when he threw on his jacket and left his room. The hall was empty. So was Rinoa's room. She must have stayed at her father's.

He took a carafe of tea from the dining hall and headed up to the bridge, where he proceeded to try to contact General Caraway. He was informed by a pleasant electronic voice that the general's residence was unavailable. No reason was given.

The hot tea tasted fine, but the discomfort in his belly only increased. It was still early; no one would be awake for a little while. There was time. Putting the computer on standby, he started for the door, just as Nida entered.

"'Morning, Commander!" the pilot exclaimed, startled. "I thought I was the first of the day shift up."

"Why are you here at all?" Squall asked. "The Garden's not going anywhere yet."

"Doesn't mean we just leave the bridge empty."

"...Oh." Of course; the need for security was obvious. By now Nida probably thought of him as 'Squall the moron,' considering how many idiotic things he'd said and done in the other SeeD's presence. Starting with forgetting his name after they had graduated together and going on from there.

None of that showed in Nida's face, however. His smile looked sympathetic, actually. "So are we going somewhere soon, or not? Have you decided?"

"I think so," Squall said. "We're rejecting the petition. I'll make a general announcement when I get back."

"Okay—wait a sec, get back from where?"

Squall was already out the door. Alone in the office, Nida waved after him. "Good luck, sir." He swiped the steaming cup of tea from the desk and sipped contemplatively. "Whatever the heck you're up to."

 

* * *

There were guards outside the Caraway mansion—not private security but Galbadian soldiers in full body armor. Two were standing at the front gate when he arrived, the slump in their postures suggesting that they had been there for a while. Still attentive, though; when he approached they immediately raised their blades. "Who're you?"

"Squall Leonhart. SeeD Commander."

"Why are you here?"

"I want to enter."

"Really, boy? Never have guessed it." The other man sniggered. "Why do you want in?"

"I want to see someone."

"I'm sorry," the soldier said, not sounding it. "You can't see the general. This house is off-limits until the President declares otherwise. So scram."

"I'm not trying to see the general," Squall said. "And I will go in." In one smooth motion he drew Lionheart and crossed both their swords with the glimmering gunblade. "I don't want to fight, but I will."

Both pairs of eyes fixed on his weapon. They didn't miss its unnatural glow in the brightening morning, nor the graceful familiarity with which he wielded it. One guard swallowed audibly. "You really are him—holy sh—"

"We're sorry, Commander," the other said, holding his arms stiff to keep his sword from contacting Lionheart. "Go right in."

There were more soldiers on the grounds, but they ignored him, assuming since he walked the path openly he must have permission. Unobstructed, he marched to the front door and rang the bell, then banged on the knocker. The heavy oak portal swung open, revealing a middle-aged, tuxedoed servant. "What's going on?" Squall demanded. "Why are there guards here? What's happened to Rinoa?"

As the butler gaped, a voice behind him spoke. "Rinoa? What about my daughter?"

The servant stepped aside as General Caraway strode forward. Even out of uniform, his neatly pressed civvies had a military cast, and his posture was ramrod straight as any ensign's. Iron gray hair and steely eyes completed the image of the perfect career soldier, and the strength of his hand grip attested that he was one officer who could handle himself in battle as well as his troops.

At the same time, he was not one to underestimate others. There was a definite measure of respect in the gaze he leveled on Squall. "Commander, welcome back to my house." He lead the SeeD to his study, then turned to him. "Now what were you asking? What trouble is my girl in now?"

"You don't know?" The general had no reason to lie, and yet Squall found himself searching the man for signs of dissembling. "She's not here?"

Caraway sighed. "I haven't seen Rinoa since she ran off with you and your SeeD last year. I'm only her father; why would she be here?"

"She was planning to come last night. She was thinking she might stay over, and when I couldn't call this morning—" He forcibly reigned himself in. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. When I saw the soldiers outside—"

"I see," the general said understandingly. "The soldiers are my own problem, and the incommunicado as well."

"Your problem? I thought you were the chief general."

"I was. Technically I still am, but it's a sorry commander who's put under house arrest by his own troops. It goes past mutiny and into treason, if it weren't for the President's order."

"Why?"

"Why the order? Because I disagree with certain recent policies." Squall nodded, remembering who had orchestrated the attempted assassination of the Sorceress. "And because I'm difficult to shut up. They can't kill me; if they depose me, they'll have an uprising in the army. Once the soldiers join the revolutionaries' side, the game is over. They're doing their best to keep the men loyal to me as far away as they can, and fill the city with those they commissioned themselves...though right now there's few enough soldiers in the city at all. They're up to something, but I don't know what—"

"General, excuse me," Squall cut in. "This is important, but I need to get back to the Garden and find out what happened to Rinoa—"

"I expect she's fine," Caraway said. "It's hard for me to accept sometimes, but she's no little girl anymore, and she can take care of herself. She's got plenty of friends in the city with whom she could stay with. She might be trying to contact you now."

"Then I better go." Though he didn't believe it. She might have many places to be indeed, but she had intended to come here, and once Rinoa decided something she rarely changed her mind. And she had decided to see a man who wasn't her friend, no matter what she might have thought, or what he might have been. The unease in his stomach was beginning to manifest as worry. Though it did no good to panic when he was already doing whatever he could, it was not a feeling he could ignore, however futile it was. "I'll come back soon, hopefully."

"I'll expect you." The general ushered Squall back into the hall. Before the threshold to the entryway he paused. "I have to ask. I've been hearing...stories. Rumors about what might have happened last year. Nothing certain, but you were in the middle of it, weren't you. All of you. My daughter included."

Squall nodded. Caraway drew a deep breath. "Squall, tell me honestly. Is my daughter a sorceress?"

"Yes." The general's expression was implacable. Squall tried to lessen the blow. "Ultimecia is gone. The Sorceress you wanted assassinated. We stopped her. But Rinoa inherited the Sorceress Edea's powers. Rinoa is a sorceress. The only one, we think." He still couldn't read the older man's face. "Do you still want her to come here?"

Now his expression changed. "Yes. She's my daughter. This—this affects my feelings for her as much as it affects your own."

Squall studied him for a long moment. "General Caraway, I love Rinoa."

There was a minute softening of the general's iron jaw. "I know, son."

 

* * *

"What do you mean, he left?"

Zell's shout could have been heard in Trabia Garden. A lesser man might have faltered. Nida, who was SeeD, a year older, and an inch taller than Zell, and also had known him for years, didn't flinch. "I mean, the commander left. Like, he used his legs and walked out the door. And out of the Garden, I guess."

"And he didn't say where he was going?" Quistis pressed.

Nida shrugged. "That's Squall," Selphie and Irvine said together, leaning forward in perfect synchronization. Selphie ruined the effect by covering her mouth to block a giggle as Irvine continued, "He probably went to see Rinoa. She's not here either, notice. She went to see her father last night; she's probably still there. And so's Squall, I bet."

"He might be there. But I don't think Rinoa is." The five SeeD turned as Dr. Kodowaki entered. "I was taking my morning constitutional when I noticed a problem by the main entrance." Before she could explain, a furry form rushed past her legs and leapt to the center of the room, barking furiously.

"Angelo!" Selphie cried, rushing forward to throw her arms around the dog.

"He was outside the gate, fighting to get back in. The idiot Galbadians keeping watch didn't know what to make of him," the doctor said. "I practically had to bribe them to let him through—they thought we'd have a no pets rule, I suppose. One wonders what they'd make of the training grounds. So what's he doing here, without Rinoa?"

"That's the question." Quistis folded her arms in an attempt to look dependably mature, and therefore unafraid.

Selphie didn't bother trying. Her eyes were round with worry. "Angelo, what's wrong? Where's Rinoa?"

"Dogs can't talk," Zell muttered.

"I _know_," Selphie shot back. "But if he could—something's wrong. He knows it. Rinoa must be in trouble—"

"Probably."

Squall's quiet tone was moderate as always, but every head in the room instantly snapped to his figure in the doorway. Quistis took an automatic step toward him, then saw something in his face and stopped. "Squall, where's Rinoa?" Wanting her to be behind him, knowing she wasn't, seeing his expression. His eyes, falling on Angelo, Selphie's arms clasped around the dog's ruffed neck. Anyone who thought Squall showed no emotions just didn't know where to look for them.

"I don't know where she is," he said. "But I think Seifer does. I'm going to ask him."

"Just ask him? Man, we'll tear it out of him!" Zell shook his gloved fists in the general direction of Deling City.

"I'm going to ask him first," Squall said.

"Alone?" Zell wasn't the only one to react to that. "You can't go alone, not with Seifer," he verbalized all their protests. "He's got a gunblade too, you know! Even if you're junctioning every guardian force we got—I mean, you're good, Squall, you're better than Seifer, easy, but he cheats! And if Rinoa's at stake here—"

"You're right," Squall agreed, then, before Zell could celebrate, turned to Instructor Trepe. "Quistis, will you come?"

"Of course." She joined him by the door. "Before we go—about Galbadia's petition—"

"Yeah." Squall looked them over. "We're rejecting it. But I want to talk to Seifer before I tell the President. We might need to search Deling City to find Rinoa, and we'll need the unrestricted access. Does that sound right?"

They all agreed. "You go get Rinoa," Irvine told him. "And let us know who did this."

The others nodded. You don't take on SeeD without retribution. Zell shadow-boxed the air, eagerly imagining what he could do to the person responsible for this.

That is, he corrected, watching his commander's eyes, if there was anything left after Squall found them.

 

* * *

Quistis didn't ask how Squall knew where to go. She followed silently as he maneuvered through the streets to a brick building, set between the council hall and the army barracks. He didn't have to knock; the door was open. They ascended the porch steps and walked through marble-floored hallway to a small central courtyard. A training ground, to judge from the circle of beaten earth and the equipment racks. It was empty save for Seifer. He stood in the center, his gunblade sheathed at his side and his arms crossed. "So she decided not to come," he said as they approached, then raised an eyebrow sardonically. "One against two? Hardly sporting. I'd have thought better of you, Instructor. Squall. Or should it be Commander?"

"Whatever. Where's Rinoa?"

"Rinoa?" Seifer frowned. "You'd know better than me. Wherever you left her, so she'd be safe—I wasn't going to hurt her. You could have trusted me that much." He sounded disappointed. More than that, he sounded serious. Honesty, not the bravado of a lie.

Maybe she could shock him out of the act. "Seifer, it's too late for that. She's gone, and you know where she is."

"Rinoa's gone?" It had to be an act, and yet the mix of surprise, even concern, in his voice sounded genuine. That wasn't right. Quistis was used to reading Seifer easily. It wasn't that he wore his heart on his sleeve so much as that he had few emotions to display. Two, generally—pleased, when someone acted to further his ends, or annoyed, if he believed someone was hindering him. Only when Squall entered the picture would he show true anger.

But here was a different side of Seifer, and how much of it was deception she couldn't tell. Duplicity was one of the few faults he lacked; even when he was the Sorceress's Knight, he had never pretended otherwise.

If Squall noticed, it didn't matter to him. "Rinoa's gone," he said flatly. "She went to see with you last night, and then was going to visit General Caraway. She never arrived there."

"She never arrived here, either." Could that apprehension be sincere? "I just thought—she's been missing since last night?"

"You don't know." It was a statement, not a question.

"On my honor as a knight, Squall, I had nothing to do with it."

"Then why are you here?" Quistis demanded, ignoring the claim of honor from a man with none.

The haughty scorn with which he turned to her was more what she expected from him. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Instructor, but there are some who actually appreciate ability. I may not have been accepted as one of your so-glorious elite, but the army here is happy to learn from a knight."

"A knight?" How long had it been since anyone had seriously claimed that title, outside of the Sorceress's thrall? "So now you're proudly training thugs?"

"Can your SeeD here do anything but ask insulting questions, Commander?" Seifer raised his chin insolently. "If you wanted backup, I'm surprised you didn't bring along Dincht. If he was scared you could've just dangled a hot dog in front of him."

"Please don't insult Zell," Squall said quietly.

"Why shouldn't I insult that chicken-wuss?"

"Because he's my friend."

"Why?" Seifer challenged.

Squall shrugged, as if he had no idea himself why he would have any friends. Seifer waited, then lifted his shoulders and let them fall. "I don't know where Rinoa is. You can believe me, or not, but you'll figure out it's true eventually. And soon, I hope, because she might be in real trouble. There's dangerous people here. I wouldn't want her hurt."

Quistis watched him narrowly. "Why would you even care?"

He didn't look at her but at Squall, steadily. There was a sober depth to his expression as he answered, a hand resting on his gunblade's hilt, not threatening but as one might swear an oath. "I'm the Sorceress's Knight. Even with Ultimecia gone, I'm still the Sorceress's Knight."

"Rinoa has a knight already," Squall said, and his face was just as serious. "But I believe you."

"Just like that?" Quistis looked at Seifer, looked to Squall. Then nodded without a word and fell back to her commander's side, just as her communicator chirped. Quickly she snatched it from her belt. "Yes?"

"Quistis, you're with the commander? We need him back here." Even over the radio Xu sounded disturbed. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is urgent. We just got a message—I can't give it over an unsecure line. Not here."

Also listening, Squall nodded. "We're coming," Quistis responded quickly, and switched it off.

As they turned to leave, Seifer spoke. "Squall. When I first came here, they asked me to lead their troops in battle. I said I wouldn't. And then they asked me where you sunk the Lunatic Pandora. I said I didn't know. It's over. All that stuff. For me, it's over. That's what I wanted to tell Rinoa."

"I understand," Squall said. "But it's not over for her. For us." He bowed his head once. "Goodbye, Seifer."

Seifer raised his hand, like a lord might take leave of his vassals, or a knight honor a peer. "Goodbye."

 

* * *

"It's not about Rinoa." Xu answered Squall's first question before he could ask it. She met them at the lift to give them a quick rundown on their way to the office. "Nida picked it up about half an hour. It's a repeating communique; we listened to it, checked its legitimacy, and then called you. It's from the Shumi village, Commander. They're asking for our help."

"The Shumi?" Quistis exclaimed. The Shumi were proud of their self-sufficiency, and generally had little respect for mankind; they didn't actively dislike human beings, but with a few exceptions they tended to avoid foreigners. That humans sometimes enslaved moombas, one evolved form of Shumi, probably didn't improve this attitude.

Though the Gardens had initially been funded and mastered by NORG, a Shumi merchant and something of a renegade to his people, Squall knew of no instance that they had ever hired SeeD before. "What do they want us for?"

"Defense," Xu said shortly, and they entered the office. To a person, the SeeD present looked distressed. Nida, seated behind the desk, played the message.

The Shumi's bubbling accent was crystal clear; it was hard to interpret nonhuman emotional tones, but if Squall were to guess he'd have said the speaker sounded scared. "Burururu. We ask for the help of the SeeD of the Gardens and Commander Squall. Our village is under attack. Our defenses are inadequate against the Galbadian soldiers and crafts. Fushushu—please help us. They seek to take our people. They are searching and looting our homes. We beg for your protection. Bururu. Come, please." The message cut off with a burst of static.

"It's coming from the village," Xu said. "As far as we can tell, it's not a trick."

No, the Shumi would have no reason to trick them. "Could be a slave raid," Irvine said soberly. "Galbadia usually trades for moomba workers, but if they needed a lot for some reason..."

"What are we going to do, Squall?" Zell demanded. "Those Galbadian bastards can't get away with this—we gotta help the Shumi—"

"But what about Rinoa?" Selphie asked. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Quistis replied for him. "Except that Seifer doesn't know about it. But he implied he might know who did it—he said there are dangerous people around."

Right on cue there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Squall ordered, but they only knocked again.

Zell leapt over and flung the door open. Then balled his fists. "_You_!"

"Yeah, us." Ignoring the accusation, and the wary stares of the other SeeD, Fujin and Raijin strode past Zell and headed toward Squall.

The commander watched them with solemn curiosity. "Why are you here?"

"We came in through the back. A secret entrance, ya know?" Raijin offered. "Didn't want the Galbadians seeing us, ya know?"

"Why'd you come?" Squall repeated.

"REQUEST," Fujin supplied.

"Seifer, of course," clarified Raijin. "He asked us to come, ya know? Soon as you all left he told us to. There were things he wanted to tell you that he couldn't there, ya know? Being in the city."

"SECRET."

Squall nodded. "You came to tell us?"

"And to help. Seifer told us to help you. Whatever you need to do, we're here."

"You're going to help us? Just 'cause Seifer said so?" Zell demanded belligerently.

"Yeah. We're still his posse, ya know?"

"Great!" Irvine grinned, then caught Zell's glare. "What? I've seen these guys fight—better them on our side!"

"What did you come to tell us?" Squall asked them.

"Several things." Fujin stepped forward, garnering stares from those who had never heard her use more than a single word at a time, let alone a normal voice. Accustomed to letting Raijin talk, her speech was soft and halting, but articulate nonetheless. "First, Rinoa is probably unharmed. And she won't be. She was taken because they know she is the Sorceress. They would not risk hurting her."

"Who's they?" Squall demanded tightly.

"The President, and his wife."

"Lady Jezikan, ya know," Raijin specified. "She's a witch, even if she's not a sorceress. And then there's the other guy, Lord something—"

"Lord Dahl, the Warlock," Fujin said. "He works for Jezikan. There are others, not just soldiers."

"I met Jezikan and Dahl," Squall said. "Dahl's called the Warlock?"

Raijin shrugged. "Think it's because it sounds cool, ya know? No one ever says he does magic. Seifer doesn't like him."

"He doesn't like any of them," Fujin said.

"But he's sure willing to let them pay him—"

"Zell, please." Squall turned back to Raijin and Fujin. "Do you or Seifer know where they might be holding Rinoa?"

"Not really. They don't tell us secrets, ya know?"

"SEIFER." Fujin slipped back into her normal mode of speech.

"Yeah, Seifer might guess. He's been—"

"All right. Thank you for the information." Squall looked at the circle of people around him. "I'm going to call the President and tell him we're refusing his petition. I won't mention Rinoa or the Shumi village attack. Tonight I'm going back, when Seifer won't be afraid of anyone overhearing, and find out what else he knows. Irvine, since you know the city, I want you to come with me. The rest of you will take the Garden to the Shumi at maximum speed and stop the Galbadians. Try not to engage them unless you have to. Leave the Ragnorak shielded in the mountains outside the city, and Rinoa and I will join you in it as soon as we can." He faced them. "Okay?"

"Sounds fine to me," Irvine said, smiling. Selphie and Zell nodded agreement.

Quistis and Xu exchanged glances. "All right, Commander."

Squall turned to Raijin and Fujin. "What do you want to do? Go back to Seifer?"

Raijin shook his head. "He told us to help you, ya know? We'll go with you or the Garden."

"Fine. Decide what you'd rather do. I'm going to contact Galbadia and get ready. You leave for the Shumi village by nightfall." Squall was out the door before anyone could reply.

"Definitely the commander, ya know?" Raijin remarked to no one in particular.

 

* * *

If the call had come two minutes later, Squall would already have been on his way. As it was he paused on the threshold of his room, debating whether to answer the chime. Duty won over urgency. "Commander Squall here."

He wasn't expecting the face that flashed onscreen. Were it not for the green eyes, he might have been looking into a mirror of the future, seeing a reflection of himself aged thirty years. Squall didn't need anyone to point out the similarity; he had noticed it himself, the first time he had actually met the man in person. Laguna Loire, ex-Galbadian soldier, former traveling journalist, now the leader of the most powerful country in the world. A man of many titles. Mr. Loire, President of Esthar. Sir Laguna, in a couple of cheesy old movies most people thankfully didn't know existed.

Squall could use another, but didn't. He had called no one 'Father' for all of his life; it was too late to begin now. That this might be disappointing to his father Squall realized, but it wasn't enough to change his ways.

"Laguna," he said instead.

"Hello, Squall." Laguna looked him over, thoughtfully, without speaking. He had come a long way from the moronic soldier he once had been, but as far as Squall was concerned he still had a fair amount to go. Though his plan had been behind Ultimecia's final defeat. The mind behind those guileless emerald eyes was shrewder than they let on.

Squall quickly tired of the silent regard. "What is it?" he said. "I'm in a hurry."

"Going to the Shumi village?"

Laguna knew about that? "The Garden is."

"What about you?"

He didn't have time for this. "I have to stay here. Something's come up. Rinoa's in trouble." That should be enough. If there was one duty Laguna put stock in, it was love, the importance of aiding those one loved.

"How bad?" Laguna asked, worry crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I don't know. Her life might not be in danger. She's been kidnapped by the Galbadians."

"Because she's a Sorceress?"

He definitely was brighter than he looked. Or acted, for that matter. Squall somehow still felt like the adult in the conversation. "Yes. I don't know exactly what they want her for, but that probably has something to do with it."

"Squall, that's important, but...so are the Shumi. You have a responsibility to them—"

As if Laguna could lecture him on responsibility. Laguna who abandoned his duty as a soldier to wander the world. Laguna who had left Raine, his wife by everything except the law, and never returned, not before she died, not even long enough to find out he had a son. Laguna who danced through life relying on luck and faith in people's better nature, and for some reason had never been let down.

Squall tried to keep his resentment from boiling over. "The Garden is going—"

"They asked for you, Squall." How Laguna knew that Squall could only guess. Esthar had probably picked up the Shumi's broadcast. "They don't like asking people for help, you know. But they respect you. If the Garden comes without you, and they don't think you care at all—it's wrong. It's against everything the Gardens are for."

Whatever the Gardens were for. Laguna talked like he knew. Maybe he did; Cid and he might even have discussed it. Squall wished he had been let in on that secret as well. No time to get into that now, though. "If the Shumi are so important, why don't you go help them?"

Laguna's face fell. "I want to. But we've got the city—" meaning the entire continent—"closed off now. We're in the final stages of the exterminations." The exterminations, Squall guessed, were of the moon monsters the Lunatic Pandora had called down to Tear's Point and flooded all of Esthar. That it had taken only a year to deal with the aftermath of the Lunar Cry was a credit to Esthar's power. The barren lands around the city-country would probably still be infested in a century, but at least citizens wouldn't be eaten now. "They won't let me leave the palace for anything," Esthar's President said. "Kiros would kill me. That's why I called you."

Because if Laguna couldn't go, the SeeD commander was the next best thing. His lineage was the main reason the Shumi held him in such high regard, Squall knew. It was Laguna whom they truly honored; his resemblance to his father was the key to their respect for him.

Never mind that Laguna had told him that wasn't it at all, that they heeded not his bloodline or his face, but his heart. Which didn't explain to Squall why moombas had a tendency to call him 'Laguna'—father and son might have the same blood, but not the same heart. Laguna hadn't tried to explain that. He'd only laughed when Squall mentioned it.

"Laguna, I can't go to the Shumi village either. Rinoa needs me."

"The Shumi need you. Rinoa needs a rescue, but your friends are fighters too," Laguna said. "They definitely fight a hell of a lot better than me 'n Kiros 'n Ward ever did. Send them. That's the way you've gotta work this. Delegation. That's what leadership's all about."

But there were some things that couldn't, shouldn't, be delegated. No matter how much he trusted his friends and their skills. He did, implicitly. That wasn't the issue.

Then what was? He didn't have to say it to know Laguna's response. Or maybe it was his own response. Laguna was right after all. Much as Squall dislikes to admit it, he usually was. He did have a responsibility to the Shumi...but Rinoa...

"I'll—I have to think about it," he said.

"Talk to your friends," Laguna told him. "That always helps me. Just remember it is important—both things are. But the Shumi might not accept help from SeeD if you're not there, and Rinoa would." He shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes. "Well, that's what I called for. Know you've got a lot to do. I wish I could really help." He sighed, pushing the distracting mane back. "Guess it's good-bye, then. Uh...Squall?"

"...Yeah?"

"When this is over, all of it, I mean—would you like to come to Esthar? Just for a little while. A vacation. You could bring Rinoa, or all your friends. I know Ellone really wants to see you. And I get discounts, free things—it's be fun. If you'd want to."

"Maybe. After this is over," Squall said reluctantly. Wondering if he could possibly figure out vacations. The last time he hadn't had anything to do, no classes or work or practices at all, was when he was still in the orphanage. And he had come to Balamb Garden when he was five.

But Rinoa would know what to do. And it would be good to see Ellone. He would like that.

After everything was over. "Goodbye, Laguna." Squall disconnected, wondering if he had in fact promised anything at all. Everything was probably not going to be over for a very long time. And meanwhile he had a decision to make. In the end, that was what leadership was truly about. Deciding. Good, bad. Right, wrong. Left or right, black or white, yes or no.

Sometimes he hated it. But if he didn't choose, who would?

 

* * *

"The SeeD have rejected our petition," Ferdid reported to the select council. Only half the official members were present for this meeting; with no audience, the great chamber was cavernously empty. Those familiar with the government might have identified the absent faces as the more experienced, the more noble, the more honest.

With this council, the Lady Jezikan had a chair next to her husband, and Lord Dahl sat at the table further down. He never spoke, but the councilors didn't ask why he was present, and they tended to lose their place in their speeches if they noticed he was watching. Jezikan said little herself, but she often murmured in her husband's ear. The councilors didn't question this, either.

"We weren't expecting SeeD to accept, were we?" remarked Kittering, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

"No," the President agreed. "But I'm concerned by more than the rejection. He informed me the Garden will be leaving by tonight. There was a definite possibility that the Shumi got out a distress call before we blocked their radio signal."

"Even if they head right there," pointed out the assistant Minister of War, "it took them several days to come here. They shouldn't get there for nearly a week, at that rate."

"Exactly," Deling nodded. "Which is why I'm ordering the troops out tomorrow, except for one ship. The others will proceed to the primary site—since the Shumi apparently did not have what we were seeking. Correct, Doctor?"

The doctor was seated at the opposite end of the table from Dahl. He jerked up at the address. "Yes, my Lord President. I doubt even your foolish soldiers could misread my sensor. If the device detected nothing, than there was nothing to be found. We did not necessarily believe that the Shumi would possess any such thing. Therefore we must take it from the source, since I am having difficulties—" At Jezikan's glare he blinked, recalling that the council knew nothing of the girl held prisoner downstairs, and hastily changed it, "little luck with my other projects."

The council members missed his verbal flinch in the face of other concerns. "Take it from the source?" the assistant war minister cried. "You suggest an attack on Esthar itself? Madness!"

"Not Esthar," Ferdid corrected. "We'd be mad indeed to strike directly at the Country of the Shield. But they have a colony not nearly so protected, which should have the technology we require." Even if the SeeD stopped the Shumi raid, they would be too far away to prevent that strike. Peaceful and undefended, it would be easy to take from the colony what they needed. And once the doctor completed his work, no one, not even Esthar, would deny Galbadia anything she demanded. "Our second force is already deployed. In two days we attack Fisherman's Horizon."

 

* * *

In the end it wasn't that difficult a decision. Squall told his circle the problem, they agreed with Laguna's assessment, and all volunteered to go in his stead. Wary of Zell working with Seifer, he asked Quistis and Selphie to accompany Irvine. Selphie had experience in espionage; she had managed well enough at the Galbadian missile base last year. And Quistis of any of them had the best chance of getting something out of Seifer. Besides, if they had to fight the Galbadians personally at the Shumi village, he wanted Zell's skill. Squall was used to fighting alongside him. Zell's fists were a perfect counterpoint to his gunblade; though his friends were all excellent fighters, there were none before Zell he would choose to battle beside. Except Rinoa, and she wasn't available.

They were ready within the hour. He met with the rescue party at one of the lower exits, where they could slip out and infiltrate the city unnoticed. "Good luck," he wished them, since that was proper to say at these times. He didn't ask if they were prepared; he knew they would be.

"We won't let you down," Irvine assured him, saluting jauntily before pulling down his hat and sliding off the ledge to the ground below.

Selphie touched his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Rinoa's gonna be fine," she said. "She's going to be worried about you, too, so don't get in trouble!" Giving him a bright smile, she hopped down.

Quistis had tucked the Ragnarok's homing beacon safely away in her vest. She was holding her whip, the delicate chain threaded through her fingers. "Squall...you can trust us."

"...I know." He didn't know how to express it, how it twisted him up inside, watching them go and he not with them. Why should he be so disturbed, when he did trust them? "Just...Quistis, be careful. Seifer..."

"Seifer's what he always was. He's not any older than us, or any wiser. I can handle him. And we can take on the Galbadians, no problem." She met his eyes steadily. "We'll bring Rinoa back. And she's not going to care that it was us and not you. She'll understand. She loves you, Squall. Even if Seifer helps rescue her and you're not there, she still loves you."

Of course he knew it was true; he had heard it enough times before. So why did it help for Quistis to say it again? "I know," Squall said. "Good luck," and he meant it earnestly this time.

Quistis nodded, then stepped off the ledge and dropped to the earth alongside Irvine and Selphie. Together they moved off to a copse of trees planted outside the city walls. In a few minutes there was a deep rumble, as if the earth itself were groaning, then a higher shriek. Slowly the Garden's field-wheel began to spin. Wind whipped the leaves around them as deliberately, majestically, the giant craft rose into the sky.

"Goodbye!" Selphie yelled over the deafening roar, waving. Irvine clutched his hat to his head. They all watched the Garden ponderously turn, then progress away from the city. It seemed to move at a snail's pace, but they watched until the tip of the spire disappeared over the mountains into the burning sunset. Then they settled under the trees and waited for full darkness to fall.


	4. Tactics

A problem had materialized by the time Squall made it back to the bridge. Fujin and Raijin had decided to stay and help out however they could. Predictably, Zell was not grateful for the offer. "You'd be more help in Deling," he was trying to convince them when the commander returned.

"No time," Squall said. "Nida, take off."

"Yes, sir." The pilot pulled levers and flung back the rudder, guiding the Garden into the air with hardly a jerk.

"Smooth," Raijin remarked, impressed. "Much better than last time, ya know?"

"We've practiced," Squall said tersely. The last time Raijin and Fujin had been in the Garden was when they had figured out how to become airborne. The repairs at Fisherman's Horizon and experience had greatly improved their flying.

He ordered medium speed while a pilot planted the Ragnarok in an available mountain crevice. As it was, the Garden couldn't hit full acceleration until they reached the ocean, not without doing considerable damage to the land below. Once over water they would really move.

In the meantime he turned to Raijin and Fujin before Zell could start on them again. "Why'd you stay? We won't be going back to Deling City for a while—I don't know when we'll see Seifer again."

"Oh, we will," Raijin said. "We always end up together, ya know. But we wanted to say here. To help out, and visit a bit." He looked around the office. "It's been a while, ya know? We were feeling...I dunno...like we wanted..."

"HOME," Fujin pronounced quietly.

Raijin bobbed his head in agreement. "There's no place else we're from, ya know? Except Seifer, and he's not a place. We got used to being here."

"We didn't kick _you_ out," Zell said awkwardly. "Just Seifer."

"Yeah, but we go where he goes, ya—"

"Yeah, I know, I _know_! You're his posse! Geeze." Zell threw up his arms. "I don't get why you like that guy so much. He's a self-centered, obnoxious jerk—"

"SILENCE," Fujin commanded, anger flaring in her single eye.

"Shouldn't talk about Seifer that way, ya know?" Raijin didn't sound as furious as Fujin, but then few could. "You don't know him—"

"I've known him since we were this big, and he's always been a jerk! You want me to shut up? Try and make me! The training ground's right below—"

"Zell."

Squall uttering his name like that was the only definite way to shut Zell down. He lowered his fists and dropped his head. "Sorry."

If the apology was directed at Raijin and Fujin, they didn't seem inclined to take it. But at the commander's gesture they let Squall and Zell walk past and exit without a word.

Once in the lift, Squall folded his arms. He didn't have to wait long. "Why didn't they just stay with Seifer since they love him so much?" Zell burst out. "Why'd they come with us?"

"I told them they could."

Zell punched the lift's wall, pulling back at the last instant before denting it. He was learning. "You didn't have to. You could've just told them to go back to Seifer. Then they wouldn't be bugging us here—and they're probably up to something. Seifer wouldn't just send them for the hell of it. He's got something going. They were in the bar, too, when the fight broke out. They cause trouble—"

_So can you sometimes_, Squall thought, but refrained from saying aloud. Instead he tried to conceive of how Rinoa would handle this. She was so much better at dealing with people. And dealing with friends—that was hardest. "...Is something wrong?"

Zell wheeled around, then stopped in place, blinking, as if he didn't quite believe Squall had said that. He shook himself and replied, "Yeah, something's wrong, Raijin and Fujin are on our bridge..." Then he sighed, shoulders drooping. "And Irvine and Quistis and Selphie are in Deling City. Why couldn't I go, Squall? I could've handled Seifer, I would've for Rinoa's sake. I wouldn't let you guys down."

"I didn't think you would," Squall said automatically, then acknowledged it was true. He knew he could count on Zell, as he could on all of them. It was dangerous to trust others that much; he never forgot how dangerous it was. And yet it was worth the risk. He was still learning that, how much it was worth. "I could've sent any of you, but I needed—I wanted at least one of you with me. In case we have trouble with the Galbadians."

"It could've been Quistis," Zell said. "She knows more about running the Garden. Or Selphie—"

"But..." He had made the decision. It was too late to change it, and he wouldn't even if he could. "I wanted you if we have to go hand to hand against the Galbadians. You've got the best style for stopping them without killing them—the Shumi won't want bloodshed. I don't either." He paused momentarily. "Besides, we fight well together."

It was the right thing to say, as well as true. Zell didn't look convinced until Squall spoke the last; then his whole aspect brightened. "Really? You think so? I think we're a great team—man, you remember goin' against Ultimecia? Wha-bam! and she was _down_!" He flexed his fingers. "I hope those Galbadians jerks do give us trouble, I'm getting soft. And you've been too busy even to fight in the training hall—this'll be just like before. I can't wait!"

"You'll have to," Squall said. "If you could wait without ticking off Raijin and Fujin, that'd be better."

"Okay, okay. No sweat," Zell grinned. "But as soon as we get done with the Galbadians, I want to duel. I've got a couple moves now that could take Raijin!"

And then Fujin would blow him into the ceiling with one casting of aero. But it could be an interesting fight, if refereed so no one was permanently maimed. Raijin and Fujin probably would be more than amenable to it. When there was time. "According to Nida, we'll reach the Shumi village early tomorrow afternoon. We should rest while we can."

When Zell nodded, Squall pushed the button to return the lift to the office. "You think we'll hear from Quistis and everyone by tomorrow?" Zell asked as they entered the outside hall.

"I hope," Squall said.

He must have betrayed more in his reply than he thought, because Zell gave him an improbably shrewd look. "They're all gonna be fine. You don't need to worry. Especially about Rinoa. I mean, she knows how to take care of herself, but that's not what's getting to you, is it? I'm not Irvine, I don't know much about love, but I know Rinoa pretty well." This was starting to sound familiar... "Maybe she had a thing for Seifer, but that's over. And she only liked Seifer. She really loves you."

Squall put his head in his hand. "I know. I know!"

 

* * *

Deling City nights were bright and loud. Quistis, Irvine, and Selphie stuck to the darker shadows but didn't avoid the noise. In an effort to be less conspicuous, they added to it. While Quistis guided them through the same roads she had followed Squall down that morning, Irvine, not skilled in the art of silence as it were, lead the conversation. "I've never actually spent a night in Deling," he admitted. "Some of my friends in Galbadia Garden were from the city, though; they told me enough to get by. Where to take girlfriends—and not to take them—"

Selphie swatted him. "Don't even think about it."

"I'll do my best. Some of the places around here, though—talk about inspiring the imagination!" Drawn moth-like to neon lights, he peeked down a glittering sidestreet. "Oh boy—"

Selphie covered his eyes. Without slowing, Quistis shook her head and hissed, "We're not on vacation."

Falling into step beside her, Irvine nodded with a gravity that proved his act was nothing more than that. "Just trying to keep things cool."

"We're just teasing, Quisty," Selphie murmured next to him. "Irvine's not thinking about chasing girls with Rinoa in trouble."

"Are you sure?"

Selphie stopped dead in her tracks. Quistis halted with her, stiffening as if only just realizing what she had said, and grabbed the sharpshooter's arm. "I'm sorry, Irvine, I didn't mean it."

"It's all right. Like, nothing I haven't heard before." He shrugged and continued forward, calling over his shoulder, "Come on—damsel in distress, remember?"

With an uninterpretable glance at Quistis, Selphie jogged to catch up with Irvine's longer stride. She paced him, inquiring anxiously, "You're not upset, are you? She really didn't mean it, you know the way she gets when she's worried."

"I'm not upset." He kept his eyes on the sidewalk ahead. "It's true—I know, I've gotten it before."

"That doesn't mean it's true," Selphie said. "You're worried about Rinoa, too; you just show it differently than Quistis. Squall wouldn't have sent us to do this unless he believed in us—it's _Rinoa_. If he didn't think we were totally whole-hearted, he'd've come himself. He trusts you—so you should, too."

Irvine paused to look down at her earnest face, then took her hands in his and squeezed them. "Thanks, Sephie. I don't know how I did it..."

"Did what?"

"Anything, after the orphanage and before we met again." He leaned forward and she raised herself on her toes, but before their lips met they both pulled away. Looking back, they saw Quistis waiting behind them, her arms crossed protectively over her chest and her gaze steady on the sidewalk.

"We need to do something for her," Selphie whispered, breaking away from Irvine to hurry back to her friend. "Quistis, come on—Irvine's not mad at you."

"I can't get angry with beautiful women," he affirmed, then put his arm over her shoulder and said, seriously, "And I don't stay mad at friends. We have a job to do, right, fearless leader? Or are we going to have to drag you there?"

"Oh, stop it," Quistis sighed, making a half-hearted effort to slip free of his arm. "You'll make Selphie jealous."

"Too late! By now she's gonna flirt with Seifer just to get on my nerves."

"Well, Seifer's a jerk, but he _is_ a really hot jerk," Selphie mused. "He and Squall fighting sure is something to see, right, Quistis?"

Quistis had no comment, but she smiled a little, to Selphie's relief. Convincing Squall he had a sense of humor was difficult enough; for Quistis to lose hers would be a calamity. They continued on their way in a comfortable silence, walking just slow enough that they didn't seem to be hurrying but not stopping again until they reached the right street. A block away from the barracks they paused to assess the situation.

"Two guards? Why would the officer's quarters need guards?" Irvine hissed.

"Protection? Maybe they're really unpopular commanders," Selphie hazarded. "After all, Seifer is one..."

"Or maybe the president wants to keep an eye on them," Quistis suggested, blue eyes narrowed in thought. They couldn't just walk up to the place and ask for Seifer. But without him, where could they go? Attacking the guards was out; the point was not to draw attention. But there was no easy way around them; the walls were tall and the windows surely locked. How to pass unnoticed—an invisibility spell would be ideal, but they knew none.

She looked at Irvine, frowned slightly then said, "I have an idea. Stay here. If there seems to be trouble—do whatever you think is best. I'm going in."

"What?" Selphie and Irvine both stared. "You can't just walk up and knock—"

"If you're gonna fight I can shoot from here—"

Quistis ignored them. Pulling the pins out of her bun, she shook down her long golden hair and tossed it over her shoulder, then handed her whip to Selphie. Before they realized she had left herself unarmed, she was heading toward the barracks entrance. Too late to stop her without blowing whatever plan she had invented, Selphie and Irvine watched nervously from the shadow of a bar's canopy.

She made no attempt to hide herself from the guards. On the contrary, she walked right up to them—or perhaps sauntered better described her easy stride. Out of pure concern for his teammate, Irvine focused on her rolling hips, closely enough that Selphie had to resort to more than words get his attention. Where she squeezed attained it instantly and undivided. "She hasn't lost her mind, has she?" the small SeeD asked worriedly.

Irvine rubbed his pinched flesh, wondering if there would be a mark even through his jeans. "I don't think so."

Quistis reached the barracks. She was most definitely visible, though in all likelihood Irvine and Selphie wouldn't have been to the guards had they followed her. She leaned forward, and the soldiers mirrored the motion, bending close to allow her to whisper in their ears. Both straightened when she was done, and one immediately turned on his heel and marched into the building. Quistis crossed her arms and tilted her head, waiting.

In a minute the guard returned with Seifer, his long coat bright in the streetlamp's glow. They were regrettably too far away to see his face, but listening closely they made out his voice. "Why are you here?"

Her reply was too low to hear, but they saw her step forward, and then Irvine and Selphie both choked as Quistis reached up to entwine her arms around Seifer's neck.

No need for an invisibility spell after all. Both of the guards were determinedly not seeing Quistis, as Seifer put an arm around her waist and brought her inside.

"That's brilliant!" Selphie crowed. "Way to go, Quisty!"

"Are you sure it's not more than a plan?" Irvine whispered, blinking as if to make sure his eyes were working right. "I mean—"

"No, Irvine." Quistis had never liked Seifer, a feeling decidedly mutual. Irvine knew that as well as Selphie did; they had grown up together, after all.

"But that was an awfully good acting job, you don't think—"

"No, Irvine."

"They're both instructors now. And he is good looking, you said so, and Quistis, well—"

"_No_, Irvine."

There was a long silence while they waited, watching the guards and listening for any alarm to be sounded.

"Hey, Sephie, remember what we were saying before this whole mess, about how Quistis has been lonely? You think there's any chance she and—"

"**NO**, Irvine!"

"Do I want to know?" Quistis dropped down from the ledge above. Her hair was already back in its bun, and Selphie returned her whip without a word. Irvine subjected her to intense observation for two seconds, then settled back to listen without comment. "Seifer thinks there's a good chance Rinoa's being held in the council hall itself—it's got a deep basement, shielded against magic as well as missile attacks, from the last Sorceress war. He told me where to go—he said he'd come himself, but if there's soldiers they'll be loyal only to the President—or Lady Jezikan. I think he's just afraid of being caught...anyway. It's late enough there shouldn't be that many people to see us; we better get going, and see if anything Seifer said was true."

"Hey, Quisty," Irvine asked as they walked, "Seifer didn't say anything else, did he—"

Selphie elbowed him. Quistis frowned. "What? Not really—he was irritated that it was me and not Squall, but I told him what came up. I also told him Fujin and Raijin left with the Garden, but he wasn't too surprised. Actually, what surprised me was that he didn't seem to know about the Shumi village raid—maybe he is only a teacher, not a commander." Considering his former ambitions, and the way he had always scorned Quistis for being only an instructor, this struck her as odd—not that she didn't believe it was true, but because she thought it was. He had changed.

She hoped he had changed enough, for Rinoa's sake.

The shed was right where it should be, set against the near wall of the square opposite the council hall. Once the patrolling officer passed, Irvine picked the lock and they crowded inside the dilapidated structure. Amidst dusty gardening tools, Quistis located the lever, just as Seifer had described. Pulling it opened the hidden trapdoor set in the floor. They lowered Selphie down first; she cast a simple fire spell for light as Quistis and then Irvine squeezed through and shut it behind them.

The stone-walled tunnel was narrow, and low enough that Irvine had to hunch over. Selphie had room enough to skip a bit as she lead the way down. It took one sharp turn, and after edging through a narrow section, they ended up by a blank wall. Following Seifer's instructions, Quistis found the outline of another trapdoor, which when pried swung up to reveal a ladder leading down into darkness.

"Down and down we go...We gonna end up in the sewers or the Underworld?" Irvine muttered.

"These kind of look like the sewer tunnels, actually, only smaller," Selphie remarked.

Irvine eyed her. "How do you know—"

"Let's get moving," Quistis said hastily, and they descended into the pit.

It didn't turn out to be as dire as Irvine's predictions; eight feet down they hit the floor. Selphie's magic flame illuminated a plain wooden door; when Quistis twisted the knob, it opened into a closet full of mops and brooms. "What is this, the janitor's escape hatch?" Selphie whispered.

"More like the council's," Irvine whispered back. "Revolutionaries aren't exactly new to Galbadia; people have opposed the government as far back as I can remember history class."

Quistis pressed her ear to the metal door. "It doesn't sound like anyone is out there," she murmured, "but be ready for anything." She counted to three and opened the door.

The corridor was empty up and down its dimly lit length. The ceiling lamps flickered wearily as they emerged from the closet and took their bearings. "Seifer couldn't tell me where to go," Quistis said. "He's never been here."

"How'd he even know about the tunnel?" Selphie asked.

Quistis shrugged. "I didn't ask. But it sounded like this whole basement isn't much in use. Where there are people, there's probably Rinoa. Which way should we try first?"

Selphie pointed left. Irvine pointed right.

Quistis sighed and started left. The other two fell in behind her. Their footsteps sounded dully on the thin, murky carpet. It was clean, and the gray walls polished, but there was an air of desertion about the silent hallway, as if every step stirred up invisible dust. Irvine almost sneezed, but caught his imagination in time.

They turned, and turned again, winding their way through the blank passages. Unguarded doors probably weren't important. Guarded doors might have been, but there were no guards, nor any people for what felt like hours. Quistis was about to suggest they turn back when they rounded a corner and heard distinct voices at the other end of the hall.

"It's dangerous to keep her," a bass intoned.

"//_President Deling_//," Quistis mouthed to the others.

A heavily accented baritone answered in nearly a whine, "Dangerous, but in the interests of science, she is worth it! So much I could learn, even if it doesn't help you, there still is great knowledge to gather—"

The SeeD frowned at one another. That voice was familiar, but none of them could place it.

Before they had another chance, a third man spoke in an oily tenor. "Sirs, my wards are broken—someone comes, uninvited."

"Guards!" Ferdid's sharp order sounded alarmed.

"Wait, Lord President," the tenor said. "It will be taken care of."

"I say we charge 'em now," Irvine muttered, "before—"

He was interrupted by a low growl behind them. As one the SeeD turned, grabbing for their weapons. Then they saw the enemy. "Dammit," Quistis hissed.

One of the beasts hissed back, scraping its claws against the floor. The other growled again, deeper, and more threatening when one could see its bared fangs. Like monstrous leopards they were, tentacles writhing where whiskers should spread, spotted pelts gleaming a sleek, poisonous orange. Their muscles rippled as they crouched to cast their magic.

"Ah, man," sighed Irvine. "I saw enough of these at Ultimecia's castle!"

"How'd they get toramas down here?" Selphie asked rhetorically, gripping her nunchakus.

"I dunno, but they're doing a number on the carpet." Irvine raised his rifle and sighted along the barrel.

Quistis flung out her whip as one torama completed its thundaga spell. The chain struck a sensitive tendril and wrapped around its legs; she pulled it taut as lightning crackled over her, gritting her teeth against the energy's fierce burn. The torama yowled as its paws were yanked out from under it.

Its mate answered with another spell. Quistis felt a brush of cold, freezing like Death itself. Then she heard the thunder of Irvine's shot, and the icy touch vanished as a blossom of scarlet appeared between the beast's eyes. It dropped, lifeless, to the floor.

Selphie lifted her nunchakus, and then her aspect seemed to fade, as if she were too dim to shine through the brightening world. Flames erupted where she had stood, and from the pyre roared a horned beast more monstrous than the toramas, wilder than a volcano. Too large to fit in the corridor, it burst through the walls—

Quistis shook her head, forcing herself to see past the other-state to the reality remaining behind the guardian force's power. Ifrit bellowed as he flung his fire, burning through the torama but leaving the walls untouched. The phantom flame died quickly as Ifrit returned to his rest, pulling the trappings of the other-state away with him and leaving only the true world, with Selphie standing ready in the hole of his absence.

The torama feebly waved its scorched tentacles, and the small SeeD collapsed as its spell struck. With a cry, Irvine lunged for her, while Quistis snapped her whip around the beast's neck and wrenched back. Its snarl faltered to a gargled cough as the chain crushed its windpipe, and then it fell.

She looked to Irvine, only to see him slump over, Selphie crumpled beside him.

"Irvine!"

Quistis dodged for him, then heard an unfamiliar voice behind her. "Thanks, Magus, that made it a lot easier."

She twisted around, but not in time to avoid the soldier's sword hilt slamming down. It cracked against her temple with a burst of color, a burst of pain, and then nothing at all.

 

* * *

In his dream he was swimming, but the current was stronger than his strokes. The river whipped him along, so that he had to struggle to keep his head above water.

Rinoa was watching. She reached out her hand as he was swept past, but though their fingers brushed there was no time for them to clasp before he was torn away. The waters grew choppier, white surge splashing in his face. It was warmer than he thought it would be, and he had no trouble breathing. Petals caught in the wind twirled by, pale, like the flowers in the field where he had told her he would wait for her. But the river flowed away from the field. He couldn't fight against it, though he tried.

In his dream he saw Balamb Garden, its reflection shimmering on the flowing water, moving with it, as if it too were caught in the current. Cid was in the Garden. He shouted to the headmaster that there was a waterfall ahead, that the Garden would fall with the water and be dashed on the rocks.

Cid did nothing. Maybe he couldn't hear. Squall tried to swim to the Garden, but it was too high, the river too fast. Then the water foamed as it arced over the falls, an ever-shifting, translucent curtain drawn over the silvery rocks and pulled into the gathering sea below. He was carried with the water, plunging down and down and down...

Squall did not awake relaxed. By the time the Garden was in radar range of Shumi Village, he had paced his office, gone up to the bridge, and come down again half a dozen times. Even Raijin and Fujin were silent as they stood by, waiting for orders, or conversation, or something else Squall didn't know how to give. The SeeD present watched mutely, offering little except reports on their progress.

"We're not detecting anything at the village yet," Xu said as they approached. "But there's a nearby storm that might be interfering. We'll be in visual contact shortly, and we'll know better then."

"Fine," Squall said, and rode down to the office.

Zell followed him down once the lift returned to the bridge. "Hey, what gives? The Galbadians aren't gonna be any trouble. What are you worried about? What's the matter?"

The Garden is about to go off the waterfall and I can't do anything about it. Cid can't do anything. No one can, because that's the way the river's running and you can't stop the river. You can't do anything but flow along with it, go with the times, because they're going with you. Leadership is all about making decisions, but there aren't any choices, really; they're all made, they're already made. The past can't be changed, and neither can the future.

And Rinoa still was gone. "...Nothing."

"Oh, yeah, right, nothing." Zell came close to glaring at him. "Quistis and Rinoa and all are gonna call in later, you know. They're probably hiding out in the city until tonight."

"It's only dawn there," Squall said.

"See? They're holed up at Lank's or something. And it'll be a long hike to the Ragnarok, unless they hotwire a car—Rinoa knows how, I showed her."

Squall raised an eyebrow at that. Zell grinned, pleased to get a rare reaction out of him. "She asked me to. C'mon, we better get up to the bridge, see what those Galbadian jerks are really doing."

On the bridge's vantage point, so high above the ocean, it was nearly impossible to tell they were moving at all. But the gray-green shore was fast approaching, and then they were upon it, rushing high over bramble and dirt paths. The domes of the Shumi village soon were visible in the distance.

The expected Galbadian vessels were not. "I don't get it," Nida said, handing Squall the binoculars. "I only see one ship. That shouldn't be enough to get through the Shumi's defenses." The Shumi had only one major defense, but it was a solid one: the three hundred meters of earth their village was buried beneath. The main entrance was small enough that only a few guards were needed to protect it against most attackers.

But when Squall looked, he only counted the one Galbadian ship, a standard assault vehicle. Large enough to carry a couple platoons and maybe a few missiles or war machines, but not a major threat.

"We can handle that easy," Zell remarked, but without the expected confidence. That the threat looked so minor only meant one thing—it wasn't as simple as it seemed. It couldn't be. They would just be able to sweep down and take the vessel, save the Shumi without risking a single SeeD.

From this distance Squall couldn't see any obvious problem. But he could hear the waterfall, pounding in his ears as the river flowed relentlessly toward it.

 

* * *

The atmosphere of prison was not conducive to headaches. Quistis awoke grouchy, and the stabbing pain which struck through her temples as she sat up made it worse. The rock-hard pallet where a bed, or at least a cot, should be, and the sorry excuse for bread they offered as breakfast didn't help. Irvine and Selphie stayed as far from her as the small cell would allow.

There were no guards present, but with the thick iron bars and thicker stone walls, they would have been redundant. The anti-magic field prevented them from even casting a cure to relieve Quistis of the lingering effects of concussion. Selphie halfway wished she herself had been left unconscious from the torama's magic attack, but they had revived her before jailing them. Fortunately, at that; the torama's spell often had an unpleasant habit of stopping breathing along with everything else. Apparently they were wanted alive. Dead probably would have raised too many questions.

They weren't the only ones jailed. The cell visible across the corridor was occupied, but the man inside was sound asleep. Maybe drunk. While Irvine caught up on his rest and Quistis glared at the walls, Selphie tried calling to him, to no response.

She had more luck when she approached a wall to closer examine the graffiti and seek any weak spots. "Hey, you, girl."

Hearing the whisper, Selphie searched until she found a small hole in the wall. A firecracker inserted in it might bring down the wall...if she had a firecracker. "Yes?" she whispered through the gap.

"Heard you shouting before—it's no good. They got a spell in the walls muting the cells. Lucky we carved this chink."

"'We'?" Selphie asked.

"The rebels," the voice said. "That's why you be here, right?"

"Uh...in a way, I guess."

The speaker chuckled hoarsely. "Ain't no crime but the big one in Galbadia anymore. Treason's the leading cause of death, these days."

"Death?" She wasn't that frightened; she had risked her life before. But an executioner's axe or noose was so final...

"Don't worry, girl, they don't kill the small fry. Only a couple leaders a year, truly, just for show. If they caught the ones behind the circles now...they'd do worse than kill them."

"Who is behind the circles?"

Another dry laugh. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be here!"

"How long have you—"

"Me, few months now. Too old to bother shipping me. You they'll likely send with the rest, out to the Desert Prison."

"Oh, there." It was for political prisoners, she recalled. "We got out of there easy, last time."

"Last time?"

"When will they transfer us?" Selphie asked. They didn't have time for this. Rinoa was still captured, and Squall wouldn't be very happy with them getting caught like this. "Will there be a trial soon?"

"A trial?" The crackling chuckle gave way to a full-bodied guffaw. "You ain't from here, are you, girl? A trial for treason? In _Galbadia_?" He was chortling too hard to speak. Selphie hoped his aged heart wouldn't give out in his mirth.

Quistis scowled at the audible laughter. "At least _somebody's_ having a good time."

 

* * *

In another part of the city, Quistis might have been cheered to find someone in a worse mood than she. For all her own tempers, Jezikan rarely saw her husband in such a rage. It was all the more disturbing because it was so cold. The set of his heavy brow and his balled fists were the only outward signs of his anger.

"The report is no hoax," he growled. "The Garden's already at the Shumi village. It appears we've seriously underestimated their speed, wife."

She understood the implications. There was now no certainty that they wouldn't be able to prevent the planned attack on Fisherman's Horizon. Moreover, what else might they not know, if they were so wrong about even that? What defenses and assaults might the Garden be capable of? Great Shiva, its size alone awed people; what damage could such a massive structure wreak? And that wasn't considering the SeeD it carried, the most elite soldiers in the world, with their boy commander. They could not afford to underestimate the SeeD. But they had.

"I've ordered the ship there to pull out and return to the city. I'm leaving immediately," Ferdid cut through her thoughts.

"Leaving? For where?"

"Fisherman's Horizon, with the doctor. We will get what we need, whether the SeeD in their Garden approve. My leadership may be necessary to win this fight."

She nodded. He was a good general; the soldiers would do better for his strategy. Whether he and his forces could prevail against they who had defeated the Sorceress was another matter altogether, but there would be no convincing him of those odds. Instead she wished him luck, and saw him to his ship as a dutiful wife should.

As soon as the vessel had left the dock, she hurried back to her chambers. Dahl was waiting. She wasted no time explaining to him this newest, unfortunate development.

"And still, brave Ferdid sallies forth against the dragon," he remarked sardonically.

"'Brave Ferdid' has to defeat them," Jezikan said. "We must take Fisherman's Horizon, Dahl. We must be assured of that."

He knew, yet still he asked. "How?" he murmured, so low it thrummed through her like the beat of a bass drum.

She locked the door and shuttered the window before she faced him, stared directly into the unreachable blackness of his eyes. "You will stop the SeeD commander. Now, this moment. And we shall see how the dragon fares after we've severed its head."

 

* * *

By the time Balamb Garden was in striking range, the Galbadian vessel had risen to flee. Refusing radio contact, the single ship soared past them, flying toward the sea. Squall decided it wasn't worth the effort to chase them, and ordered Xu to raise the Shumi.

After a minute he was in conversation with the village elder, a tall, sad-eyed being, strangely graceful despite its inhuman proportions and vaguely frog-like aspect. "Rushushu," it burbled. "We thank you for coming to our aid, even if it did prove unnecessary—they must have realized we were less helpless than we seemed."

"It wasn't only the one ship, was it?" Squall asked.

The Shumi gave a bubbling laugh. "Woe on them if it had been! The disrespect they show the moomba earns our anger. No, the assault was many—more than we've ever fought before. They stole several moomba before we could prevent it, though we saved most."

"Good. Did they do much damage?"

The elder fluttered its long fingers, the Shumi equivalent of shaking one's head. "No, and we have already begun repairs. Their object was not to destroy—though they sought more than the moomba. Several of us witnessed them using various devices, scanners of some kind. From that and their questions, we believe they were searching—for what we do not know. A technology, or perhaps a magic. I do not think they found it here, however."

Squall thanked the elder, and accepted its gratitude on behalf of SeeD. Upon ending the communication, he turned to Fujin and Raijin. "Do you know what the Galbadians were looking for?"

Raijin shook his head. Fujin offered nothing.

"Last time Galbadia invaded everywhere, they wanted Ellone," Zell remarked.

"That was Ultimecia's order," Squall said. "And they're searching for some thing now, not a person." This was important, he sensed. An object—magic or technology, the Shumi had said. Perhaps a weapon, or something worse. Something that might be dangerous in the hands of those ruling Galbadia, Ferdid and Jezikan and the lord with the disturbing opaque eyes. If they hadn't found it at the Shumi village, they would keep looking..."Xu, can we still track the Galbadian ship?"

"The one that ran? I think so, yes."

"Find where it's going—Nida, set a course after them. To follow, not to catch up"

"Aye aye, sir."

"You sure you don't know what they're doing?" Zell was regarding Raijin and Fujin with some suspicion.

"We're not the President's buds, ya know?" Raijin protested. "They don't give us the time of day there."

"Then why stay in Galbadia?" demanded Zell.

"LOYALTY."

"'Cause Seifer's there." Raijin shrugged his broad shoulders. "That's why we're anywhere, ya know? Like that bar."

Lank's tavern? Squall looked over. "Seifer told you to go there?"

Raijin grinned. "Love a good brawl, ya know! Yeah, he wanted us to make a distraction. 'Cause he'd heard about the arrest, ya know. We've done that before. Just trip the soldiers up, so the guys can get away."

"You stop arrests?" Zell seemed to have trouble swallowing that one.

Raijin's grin broadened, at least until he noticed Fujin's one eye looking daggers at him. He swallowed. "Uh, yeah, we've stopped them a couple times," he mumbled. "When it's not too suspicious, ya know."

Squall considered this, surprised himself even if his mouth wasn't gaping like Zell's. Seifer was helping the revolutionaries? Small wonder he wasn't popular with the President. Did the council know? They couldn't, or they wouldn't have hired him. But maybe they suspected, or maybe Seifer feared they would discover his secret.

Why, though? Why would he risk it at all for those rebels? He had no stake in Galbadia. If it were any of his friends, Squall would have no trouble understanding. Rinoa was a revolutionary already and Galbadian by birth, as was Irvine. Selphie and Zell both liked a good fight, and helping people. Quistis did what she thought was right. But Seifer—he didn't care, not about anyone except himself. How was this helping him?

Maybe it wasn't what it seemed at all. Maybe even Raijin and Fujin didn't know what he was doing; Seifer could be playing them along with everyone else. Even President Deling and his wife, perhaps. Maybe he knew where Rinoa was—maybe he had taken her.

Something inside Squall went very cold. Quistis, Irvine, Selphie—they didn't know that possibility. Out of contact, no way to warn them...

It might all be paranoia. Rinoa always told him he thought about things too much. But Zell advised him to trust his gut, and right now every instinct he had shouted there was more here than the obvious. A threat unnoticed. The waterfall on the horizon.

"Squall? Hey, you there?" Zell, slightly worried.

Squall realized he'd been quiet for too long, shook himself out of his reflections. They had been talking without him, Zell pressing Raijin about their unorthodox missions and Raijin trying not to let too many details slip under Fujin's watchful eye. He had avoided getting kicked thus far. "Yeah," Squall said. "I'm listening. Raijin. Would Seifer—"

//_Squall?_//

He faltered, caught himself and continued. "—Would Seifer know more about this raid?"

"Probably not. Not if it's a secret, ya know?"

"But if he—"

//_Can you hear me?_//

It was so far away he nearly didn't. Like a shout from deep underground, echoing through countless caverns until the last reverberation reached him. //_Rinoa_?//

Raijin was looking at him oddly. Squall attempted to retrieve his lost line of thought. "Seifer has contact with Galbadian soldiers, since he's training them, right? Maybe they talk."

"Yeah, they do," Raijin agreed readily. "It's how he knows about the arrests, ya know? But he doesn't train all of them, and lately there's been a lot gone anyway."

//_Squall, it's me_.//

"A—a lot gone?" He couldn't pay attention to Raijin, not with Rinoa's voice whispering on the edge of his consciousness, like a dream or a ghost. His imagination? He couldn't be hallucinating, wouldn't he know it if he were, couldn't he tell what was real and what wasn't? And still she spoke. //_I need to know—_//

Raijin was answering. He tried to listen. "—gathering somewhere, ya know? No one says anything—"

And then it was no dream, and no whisper. A howl filled his mind, drowning out voices and visions alike. He clutched his head, but the cry came from beyond his ears, penetrating every layer of thought and memory, shredding them like paper against a torrent.

//_Squall?_// He barely heard her voice, only the piercing worry.

From outside as well as in. "Sir?" "Commander? "—look so good, ya know?" All overlapping, adding to the chaos, and still the howl shrieked, louder and louder, a rising hurricane wind.

Distantly he felt himself fall to his knees. Couldn't feel the floor to stand upon it. Lionheart was useless in its sheath at his side; no weapon could battle a tempest.

Hands, grabbing his shoulders. "Squall?" Zell's voice, sharpened by fear, cut through the maelstrom.

He didn't have the breath to reply. Desperately he tried to look to his friend, but he couldn't see past the storm. A blizzard of black snow blotted out everything, suffocating him as the wind deafened his ears and forced his eyes closed.

//_Squall!_//

He couldn't tell whose voice it was, out loud or in his mind, real or imagination, and he couldn't answer. But at least he wasn't alone. The snow piled deeper, crystallized water flowing higher. He was almost buried. Almost drowned.

//_Squall!!!_//

Gone.


	5. Knight's Gambit

Quistis had been staring at the cell wall for so long she was starting to feel like a stone block herself. Every time she went over their capture in her mind it got worse. Taken down by couple Galbadian soldiers and a half-ass magus who probably couldn't draw fira from a bite bug. And they called themselves SeeD.

Squall wouldn't have gotten caught. He would have let Irvine and Selphie deal with the toramas while he went for the magus. Or he would have had them all flee the toramas to seek out Rinoa. Or he would have taken more care, so the damn magus wouldn't have even realized they were there.

She had a dozen possible solutions, all of which depended on her having thought of them _before_ being thrown in the brig. And she didn't have a single plan for getting out, except waiting for Squall to realize something was wrong and return to save them. Not an idea she wanted to contemplate; just the thought brought her dangerously close to tears. When had she last cried? Nine years old? Ten—leaving the orphanage to go to the Garden, that was the last time she could remember. Tears never did any good, just earned pity, or contempt, and who wanted either?  
Okay. She was the leader of this party. Irvine and Selphie were counting on her, and Rinoa and Squall were counting on all of them, and if Quistis didn't come up with a way out of this cell then she just proved they'd been right to demote her last year.

And Rinoa better be all right, or the bastards would pay. Not just at Squall's hand; she was Quistis's friend, too. There was a way out of here, and she would find it. She _had_ to handle this. For Rinoa.

With renewed resolve, Quistis stood. On cue, two guards marched into the corridor. Irvine, awake from his magic-induced nap, tried to get their attention with his broadest West Galbadian drawl. Smart thinking; the less they were suspected to be SeeD the better. "Hey, ya plannin' on lettin' us rot? We ain't done ya no damage..."

He trailed off, seeing the man in the longcoat behind the guards. Seifer didn't spare him a glance. His emotionless eyes fell directly on Quistis.

"That's her, right, sir?"

"That's her," Seifer confirmed. She tried to hide her discomfiture under his steady gaze. Unblinking like a serpent's, and just as unreadable. "Let them go."

"Them?" the guard echoed. "Sir, I'll make an exception for her, but—"

"On my authority, granted by the President, you'll release them all," Seifer said coolly.

"I better confirm—"

As with a striking snake, one didn't see him move. Seifer was empty-handed, and then he was holding his gunblade. "Release them now."

"Sir!" The guard drew his own sword, clumsily against Seifer's swiftness. "You can't—" But he could. There was little the former knight couldn't or wouldn't do, and the soldier sensed this. Or maybe he'd wisely never trusted him. "Go, get help!" he cried to the other guard, and charged Seifer.

He didn't have time for a single stab. Seifer side-stepped the lunge and clouted his head as he passed with the butt of the gunblade. The guard went down, his sword flying from limp fingers to skitter across the corridor.

"Feh." Seifer sneered at the stunned man. "Should've learned from me." He raised his gunblade one-handed, pointing the tip unwavering at the other guard, who had gotten no farther than grasping his sword's hilt. "Where do you stand?" he demanded of the man. "With our President? Or the rebel Caraway?"

"What?" Under his visor the soldier was sweating, dripping down his chin. He looked around at the cells, and Quistis swore he met her eyes before he drew himself straight, leveling his sword. "General Caraway is my commander. I can't let you take them, sir."

"That's what I thought. Get out of here."

"Wh—what?"

Seifer gestured dismissively with his blade. "Go find the general. Tell him, if he's gonna make a move, make it now. Ferdid's gone. There won't be a better time." He lowered the weapon. "Oh, and open this cell."

For several seconds the guard stood in place, his sword still held at ready, not threatening so much as frozen. While he wrestled with his confusion, the other guard groaned, "Corporal...in name of the President...arrest the knight—"

Seifer casually tossed out a sleep spell, and the man slumped once more to the ground. The casting galvanized the other guard. Crossing the corridor to the SeeDs' cell, he quickly keyed the right code. When the bolt clicked, Quistis pushed the barred door open and stepped into the hall, Irvine and Selphie behind her. "Uh, thank you, Seifer."

"Get their weapons," Seifer ordered, and the guard disappeared.

"Not that like, I have any problem with it," Irvine said to the former knight, "but what the hell are you doing?"

"None of your business. Did you idiots even make it to the council hall basement?"

Selphie smiled with false brightness. "It's so nice rank hasn't changed you, Seifer!"

"Never mind that," Quistis said. "As far as we could tell, the basement is where they've got Rinoa. We have to—"

She was interrupted by a soft tapping. In the next cell over an old man was waving. His mouth moved but the muting spell blocked his voice, so only his knocking on their cell's wall could be heard. Selphie waved back, asking Seifer, "Are you going to let everyone else go?"

The guard returned before he answered, bearing their confiscated weapons. Quistis clipped her whip to her belt and Irvine strapped on his holster. Selphie reclaimed her nunchakus, then smiled. "Never mind, Seifer. Everybody stand back!"

They did, and quickly, as she spun the Strange Vision to life and raised the whirling flails overhead. Twisting her wrists down, she simultaneously struck the old man's cell and the opposite across the corridor. The electronic bolts exploded in a flurry of sparks, the doors springing ajar. Selphie skipped forward; in a flash two more locks shattered, and the nunchakus were wheeling toward the next set.

In thirty seconds every cell in the jail was open, their occupants' jaws all had dropped, and Selphie was bouncing back to her friends at the end of the corridor, grinning with wicked satisfaction as she slipped the flails under her belt. "Okay, let's go save Rinoa!"

One of the prisoners had enough presence of mind to walk into freedom. "Well, girl—remind me to stay on your good side!" The old man squinted at Selphie nearsightedly. "Hmm, even younger than you sounded—and cuter to boot!"

"Hey, grandfather, think you're too experienced for her," Irvine remarked.

The geezer cackled, lines of laughter adding to the network already adorning his weathered face. "Hah! And you'd be her young man—lucky boy! A girl who swings 'em like that..." He twisted his head back to survey the damage, then clapped his gnarled hands. "Well, come on, get out here, y'all!" As the other prisoners began to emerge, he turned back to them. "You've got places to go, I gather? Saving someone, eh?"

"You all better get out fast," the guard said nervously. "I've closed off the corridor, but they're going to realize it's off-line soon."

"You go too," Seifer commanded. "Report to the general what I told you. Everyone." He raised his voice and his gunblade imperatively as he called to the freed prisoners, "Follow me. We're busting out. And we'll take this pitiful excuse for justice down as we go!"

A cheer rose from his listeners, louder than one would expect from the couple dozen voices present. For all his attitude, Seifer had never lacked in the charisma to lead. Sparing no time to consider the ramifications of his influence, Quistis said. "We have our own mission—"

"I can help you," the old man volunteered. "Know the way out of here, and if the council basement's where you're headed, I know that, too. Swept its floors enough times."

Quistis looked him over, noting his large frame, stooped with age but still powerful, then nodded.

"All right," Seifer said. "Go with him. And here." He tore something from his coat's lapel and tossed it to Quistis. She caught the badge, a gold pin embossed with the seal of Galbadia, backed by the silver knight's cross. "I don't need it now," he told her. "It'll get you into the council hall with no questions."

"Thank you," she said, folding her fingers around the emblem. "And thank you for your help, sir—"

"'Sir'!" The old man chuckled. "Just plain Thurlon Zaback, young lady. Ain't never been a gentleman. Come on, now. And good luck, sir knight!" He saluted Seifer, then ushered them the other way down the corridor, spry as a man half his years.

 

* * *

Once outside the jail, Thurlon proceeded to lead them through a labyrinth of side streets and back alleys, hobbling along surely without a cane. He leaned against walls a couple of times, but when Quistis suggested they take a breather he shook his head and pressed on. "Don't want to slow you young ones down!"

When there was enough space between the buildings to walk abreast, Irvine caught up with him to ask, "Zaback, you said? Know a Ward Zaback?"

Thurlon beamed. "Ward's my nephew! Haven't seen that boy in years. After his accident he worked a stretch at the desert prison, then wandered off with those crazy buddies of his—what were their names? Loony? Lay-goon?"

"Laguna Loire?" Selphie took a stab. "And Kiros Seagul?"

"Sounds right...so you know 'em!"

"You could say that," Quistis murmured, wondering how the old man would take to hearing they had all spent time inside those worthy individuals' heads.

They squeezed through a chain-link fence, and then Zaback asked, "So, who's this girl you're saving?"

"Rinoa Caraway," Quistis said. "She's—"

"The general's daughter. Told ya I worked in the council hall! You hear a lot inside those walls." Thurlon glanced them over sharply. "You're with her Timber revolutionaries? Or, no—you're SeeD, eh?"

"Yeah, we're SeeD," Irvine admitted with surprise. "How'd you—"

"Kids who break out of prisons and fight like dragonslayers? Who else would you—" He broke off, cocking his head. The shouts from the main street were difficult to miss. Panicked yells...or cheering? "Ah, this I gotta see," Thurlon decided. Scrambling over a fallen barrel, he headed for the mouth of the alley, the SeeD trailing after him.

The gathering crowd hadn't yet reached the point of riot, but it was well on its way. More people continued to stream from shops and peek out of windows to discover what had attracted the attention of the rest. Police officers were being backed a contingent of soldiers, blue-suited figures forcing through the assemblage like salmon forging upstream. All seemed to be heading back from where they had come—the prison.

"What's goin' on?" Irvine inquired of a young man shoving in front of him.

The lad was struggling to see over the heads of the crowd. "Don't know," he said. "Somethin' happened at the jail—"

"A break-out!" a middle-aged matron revealed triumphantly. "Citizens finally stormed that hole and showed the cops what for!"

"I heard it's another bombing," the lab objected.

"Nope!" sang a girl even younger. "Was the knight, he's gone nutty, got out his sword and started cutting down guards with it! Chop chop chop!" She spiced up her rumor with vivid pantomimes.

Well, he had said they would take the jail down... "Looks like we owe Seifer," Irvine murmured as they again withdrew into the alley. "We couldn't ask for a better distraction."

"I doubt he did it for Rinoa's sake, though," Quistis replied. "So what's he up to?"

They didn't find any answers at the council hall, but nor were they questioned. The guards on duty, distracted by reports of the events at the jail, waved them through the main gate with barely a cursory check. Once inside, all soldiers conceded to the authority of Seifer's knight badge. They must not yet have word of his role in the current uprising.

Quistis knew better than to expect the basement guards would be so simply cowed. Even if the President was absent, Ferdid's personal men wouldn't sway to the symbol of the knight. As they slipped down a side passage and descended a narrow servant's staircase, she reached for her whip. This time they must be ready.

Soon they were walking the same drab, dim corridors they had traveled before. Every corner they turned looked the same as the last to her eyes, but Thurlon continued to lead them surely. "Have an idea where she'd be, most likely," he remarked, before Quistis could ask. "Down that hall's the best bet."

"Then we just need a plan," Irvine said.

"Maybe one of us could sneak in?" Selphie suggested. "While you guys distract them, I'll—"

"Why you? I can sneak, too—if they catch you—"

"It won't work anyway," Quistis said. "We don't know how many guards they might have with Rinoa. Then there's the magus, wherever he's at."

"And we don't know what they've done to Rinoa," Irvine said soberly. "If they just had her tied up she'd be long gone."

"Hey! Where's Thurlon?" Selphie exclaimed. "He was right ahead of me—"

"He sure can move, for an old guy," commented Irvine.

"He'll realize he lost us and come back," Quistis said. "We should wait—"

Then they heard Zaback's cry echoing through the halls. "Intruders!"

Quistis snatched her whip. "_What?_"

"Guards! Over here!" Thurlon shouted.

Selphie gripped her nunchakus, her face white. "He wouldn't—"

"No, he wouldn't. Geeze, have some faith." Irvine rolled his eyes. Quistis realized Thurlon was calling from several corridors away, and getting farther. Though she would have appreciated a warning, she couldn't fault him for providing them an opportunity. She hoped he was careful. They wouldn't be too hard on an old man, would they?

As one they continued down the hall, but when they reached the corner Quistis stopped them. Couldn't make the same mistake as last time; they'd been ambushed far too easily. "Selphie, go around and see if anyone's in sight. I'm going to check the other side. Irvine, you stay here."

"Got it." They split up. While Selphie slipped down the hall, Quistis crept around the corner, then risked peeking out. Seeing no one, she strode into the hall.

"Stop right there!"

Not her. Hurrying down the hall, she found Selphie facing a guard around the corner. The man's back was to Quistis. The small SeeD had her hands stuck in the front pockets of her dress, looking shyly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I was just looking for the restroom?"

"Huh? Yeah, right," the guard growled. "You better come with—"

Quistis's hold spell froze him mid-sentence. "That's okay, I'll find it myself," Selphie chirped, then grinned. "Thanks, Quisty. I think he was the only guard on that door—"

"He was the only soldier keeping watch," purred an oily voice behind them. "The other fools ran after the old man. But I'm still here. I wouldn't move, if I were you." He stepped in front of them, a stocky man in the long cerulean robes of a second order magus. Probably junctioning an air elemental, to tell from the silver pin on his odd hat.

"So you're the bitches who murdered my toramas," he seethed. "Do you know how hard it was even to halfway train those beasts?" Magic danced along his fingertips—ebon sparks. He had mastered more than air spells, then. And no amateur tricks, either; the black gravity magic was as difficult as it was devastating. "It was stupid of you to return."

"And it was stupid of you not to watch your back," someone remarked behind him, "but you don't see me making fun." Irvine cocked his rifle, deliberately loud. Its muzzle was pressed lightly to the back of the magus's head, beneath his cap. "You gonna be polite to the ladies, or should I just pull the trigger?"

The magus mumbled something high-pitched and entirely unintelligible. "In the words of a great man I know...whatever," Irvine said, and boxed him over the head with the gun butt. He placed a mute spell on the mage for good measure, then straightened from his limp form. "This git's out of the picture for now. Which door was the soldier guarding?"

Selphie pointed. Irvine lifted his rifle, aimed, and fired. The doorknob shot off to dent the opposite wall. Quistis shoved the door in, then stopped, suspended on the threshold as she absorbed what was within. The chamber was small, its gray walls bare. The single ceiling light starkly illuminated the single bed in the center of the room. On it, Rinoa lay bound like an unfortunate asylum inmate, her arms and legs held with metal cuffs, a broad leather strap over her stomach belting her to the cot. Her eyes were closed, but she twitched restlessly. Alive, at least.

The single guard surged to his feet at Quistis's entrance, brandishing his sword. She had her whip tangled around his arms before he could blink, and took pleasure in yanking him to the floor, hard. Selphie ran past to Rinoa's side, calling her name in unhappy surprise.

Gunfire sounded from outside the room. "Is she there?" Irvine shouted. "We've got company!"

"You girls okay?" called another. Thurlon Zaback had returned. "Drew 'em far away as I could, but I think they caught on."

Behind her, Quistis heard Selphie casting esuna. With the magus gone it might be enough to bring Rinoa around, if they hadn't hurt her too badly. "I'll help them," Quistis told Selphie, flicking her whip off the dazed guard, and joined Irvine and Thurlon. They had their hands full battling soldiers approaching from both ends of the corridors. One of the officers had the power to keep a steady protect spell on the troops, rendering Irvine's gun all but useless, and the hasty magic wall the sharpshooter had thrown up was barely holding against the assaulting swords and spells.

Closing her eyes, Quistis focused on the guardian forces junctioned within her, calling forth Siren from the other-state. But before the being answered the summons, a cry from the room behind broke her concentration—_Selphie_, she realized with a panicked gasp, she'd been intent on the spell, and Quistis had left the guard free beside her—

There was a flash, so bright that SeeD and soldiers alike threw up their hands to shield their eyes. Quistis blinked back spots, and then stared at the figure in the doorway.

Rinoa stood erect, her eyes open and clearly, coolly surveying the hall, the battling fighters. The cuffs shone around her wrists and ankles, but the chains hung broken, intricate links fissured by cold. Ice crystals still glittered on the metal.

Behind her, a pair of wings stretched up, piercing the walls and ceiling, every white feather perfectly defined. Brilliantly visible like the forces of the other-state, there and vividly not there, the glory of an angel's shadow. Rinoa's shadow, the silhouette of the Sorceress.

She raised her slender arms and meteors rained down, a hail of fiery stone bursting from a zone of magic deeper than the other-state. Incandescent with star-fire, they battered the soldiers and scored great trenches in the metal floor, but not a cinder singed the SeeD or Thurlon beside them.

Rinoa lowered her arms, and the bombardment ceased. The vision of wings was gone, and they seemed all that had been holding her up; bereft of them, she sagged. Irvine, in certain things always alert, leapt back to throw a supportive arm around her waist. She leaned on him, and Selphie ducked under her arm to brace her other side. Around them the soldiers lay, unconscious or moaning softly. None seemed to be dead, or even seriously injured, but their defeat was total up and down the corridor, and beyond it as well, Quistis was sure.

Thurlon seemed in danger of injury himself, his breath coming in short gasps. Quistis wondered if a cure spell would help, but he seemed to have it under control. She steadied him with a hand under his elbow, knowing the rugged old man would accept no more support. After a moment he lifted his head, squinting watery eyes at Rinoa where she hung between Irvine and Selphie. "So...this is your friend."

"Yes," Quistis said, not knowing what else to say.

Rinoa stirred, shaking her head slowly. "Quistis?" she whispered, sounding drained to the very soul.

"Rinoa," the instructor carefully replied. "How do you feel?"

"...Wiped." She made an effort to stand, still leaning heavily on the others. With every syllable more alert, she asked, "Selphie? Irvine? How'd you get here?" She looked around. "Where's Squall?"

"He couldn't come," Selphie said quickly. "He really wanted to, but the Shumi needed his help—he was so upset that he couldn't, it's not that he didn't care—"

"'S'okay. Long...as long as he's okay." Rinoa drew up her slender frame, brushing her hair from her eyes. "You guys are all right?"

"Thanks to you." Irvine gave her a friendly squeeze. "Nice light show."

For a moment Quistis wondered if Rinoa had even been conscious of her sorcery. Then she saw the other girl's expression as she looked over the spell's aftermath, shades of awareness, fear, regret crossing her face before she firmed her chin. "I had to. They kept me tied there, and I couldn't fight back. Then when the magus's spell broke, and you woke me—that guard was going to hit Selphie. I couldn't let him. I couldn't let them hurt all of you."

The silence following this was broken by Thurlon's wheezing cackle. "Hah! I say you did right, my lady—I don't want this old hide hurt, myself." When she looked at him, he hesitated only an instant before thrusting out a knotty hand. "Thurlon Zaback, always at your service."

Rinoa took it and shook, firmly enough that his bushy gray eyebrows rose. "Rinoa Heartilly. Thank you—I saw you fighting with them—"

"He did more than that," Quistis began.

"And more yet," Thurlon cut her off. "You best be out of here, girls, lad. You too, my lady. That passage will take you out the servant's way. Go quick, now—these'll be waking soon," he nudged a soldier with his boot, eliciting a groan. "And they'll be sending more to find what became of this lot. I'll distract them."

"But, you—" Selphie objected.

"You don't worry 'bout me, girl. They ain't gonna hurt a poor old man; they don't even have a jail to lock me in, now. And I'll play the fool for as long as you need. Come on, now, go! You came here to save her, didn't you? Save her, then!" He made shooing motions at them. "I'll be seeing you again. Must hear about that nephew of mine. Goodbye for now—and farewell, my lady!"

"Wait," Rinoa echoed Selphie's protest, "we can't leave you—"

"He'll handle it," Irvine said. "With everything else going on, they're not gonna worry about him. Just don't provoke them," he admonished, and Thurlon grinned like a boy.

"Thank you," Quistis told him gravely, and then they started down the hall he had indicated, stepping over the bodies of the slowly reviving soldiers. Selphie and Rinoa resisted, only to be pulled along by the other two.

The few guards they encountered were easily handled, and once outside the council hall they were lost in the anarchy that was taking hold of the city. It hadn't yet escalated to mass violence, but some folk locked their doors and shuttered their windows, while others, children and adults alike, ran through the streets, shouting and laughing at the police and soldiers vainly attempting to calm them. The SeeD avoided the turmoil, skirting the crowd forming around the council hall, and headed for the city gates.

The auto garage was open, but the man behind the desk was reluctant to lease them a vehicle. Quistis displayed the knight's badge, to no avail. He blinked at her slowly, like a sunning lizard, his elbows on the counter with his fists propping up his fleshy cheeks. "Soldiers tol' me not to rent to anyone."

Impatiently, Rinoa reached into Irvine's pocket, snatched his credit chit, and dropped it onto the desk. "Whatever you can withdraw in the next minute's yours. Which car can we take?"

The man's heavy lids raised to half-mast. He thrust the card into the transfer-scan, pudgy fingers flying over the keys. The machine beeped, and his mouth widened into an 'o.'

"Which car?" Rinoa repeated.

"Whatever one you want..." The man's eyes didn't leave the screen as he handed back the chit.

"Thanks," she said, and herded them toward a sleek, fast, jet black number. Climbing into the driver's seat, she returned Irvine's card.

He regarded it mournfully as he got inside. "How much—"

"You don't want to know." Once he and Selphie were seated in the back, and Quistis slammed the passenger door, Rinoa hit the gas. They roared out of the garage and into the wilderness.

 

* * *

With Rinoa behind the wheel, and her passengers with white-knuckled grips on their seatbelts, it only took a couple of hours to follow Quistis's tracer to the concealed Ragnarok. While its shielding prevented radar detection, the spaceship was visible in the coming twilight. Perched in a mountain crevice, the points of its metal pinions thrusting above the treetops could have been mistaken for a living dragon, or a temple to forgotten gods. At a signal from Quistis's device, its rim lights glowed to life, illuminating its scarlet length.

They gratefully disembarked from the car, Irvine under his breath expressing disbelief of their survival, and climbed aboard the ship. Ragnarok's cockpit was a field of colorful, blinking stars. Undaunted by the array, Selphie settled herself before the controls, ran through the basic checks and took note of a particular beacon. "Hey, there's a message from the Garden." She hit the button to play it.

Zell's voice came on over the speakers, his words clear, but he sounded far too restrained. And scared. "Hi. Um, I hope everything went well—is Rinoa all right? I'm leaving this recording because we might be out of radio contact when you get back. We're going to Esthar. Something—something really bad's come up," he said in a rush. "The Garden's on its way there now. Meet us there whenever you get back. Uh, that's all. I hope you're all okay, and you come soon. We need you here. Over and out."

A momentary silence reigned. Quistis knew, without a word spoken, that all their thoughts were the same. Zell's tone, worried the way he never was, unsure. And Zell, not Squall. He hadn't said what was wrong; he hadn't needed to. Only that it was bad enough they had decided to go to Esthar. Esthar, most powerful nation of the world; Esthar, where Squall's only family lived. It couldn't be that bad...

Quistis found that she was looking at Rinoa. That Selphie and Irvine were as well, silently holding hands. Waiting for her to speak before they said anything themselves, allowing her to assimilate this alone before they dealt with it together.

She was pale, even paler than usual, her face stark white against her dark hair. One hand tightly gripped the back of Selphie's chair. But she stood straight, and the energy that had taken her this far hadn't faded from her eyes. "Set a course for Esthar," she said quietly. "You heard Zell. They need us."

_And we need them_, Quistis added in her mind. _Be all right, Squall_. He had to be. After Griever, after Ultimecia, after all the horrors they had conquered, what could the Galbadians possibly have done? Whatever it was, he could survive it. He had to.

Rinoa's face was a mask of composure, but her lips were shaping a single word. A prayer from the core of her being, echoing Quistis's own. _Please._

 

* * *

The wind was dying, no longer a hurricane but a light breeze, a breath so faint it barely stirred the leaves. They rustled in the current, blowing aside to allow dappled sunlight to pass, then falling back into shadows.

He blinked at the shifting pattern of green and bright gold. Slowly the patches of dark and light resolved into leaves and sun, and he became aware of the cool, moist earth beneath him. He pushed himself up, the ground giving under his gloved fingers, clumps of dirt and brown leaves.

Absently brushing a twig from his jacket's collar, Squall stood. _Where am I?_ He didn't ask it aloud, not when there was no one to answer. The forest glade was silent, except for the whisper of wind through the branches. No birds or buzzing insects broke the peace.

Disturbing, how tranquil it was here. The sun was high, shafting through the canopy of leaves, warm where its rays penetrated, cool in the shadows. The fresh scent of sap and green growth drifted through the glade.

Only the silence betrayed the wrongness at first. When he looked closer, he saw other hints of destruction. The broken branch, ripped off at its base. The brown leafs at the top of a tree of emerald foliage. He followed the signs like a hunter tracking a grendel, each indication leading to another closer to the quarry. More torn branches, more burnt leaves. As he moved through the wood the damage increased, until he walked from paradise into a wasteland. The thick underbrush here was ash, and the tall trees fallen, trunks scorched black.

It was here, in the seared and broken forest, that he found their bodies. He came upon Selphie first. She was curled her side by a shattered sapling, her legs crushed and bloody, her neck twisted at an impossible angle. Her eyes stared like glass marbles in her sockets, widened, as if death amazed her. The familiar expression of fascination was intensely, mockingly lively, permanently frozen on her features by a shock too great for even her vital spirit.

Only a few feet beyond her, Irvine Kinneas had fallen. Two long slashes across his chest had poured his life's blood onto the forest floor. His hat was gone, and his rifle, still gripped in one cold hand, was beyond repair, the muzzle bent back like a straw. His other hand was stretched out toward Selphie, the fingers curling in a little and the nails gray, but his arm extended as far as he could reach.

One of her arms was cast out toward his, but their fingers didn't quite touch. An inch of ash separated their hands, and it seemed to Squall, seeing them, that this was worst of all. He didn't know how they had gotten here, nor what had killed them. How he came here himself was as great a mystery, and it occurred to him that as recent as their deaths were, he almost certainly must be in danger as well. But no thought was as powerful as this too certain truth, that these were his friends, and that they were dead. Not sleeping, not unconscious; no magic could heal them, no spell revive them. Terrible, that they should be dead, and more terrible, that he had not been there, to save them, at least to see them again when they were still alive. And most terrible that they had died apart, alone. Their hands never to clasp now.

For a long time he stood in the devastated glade of that too-quiet forest, his hand against his scarred forehead, trying not to look at them, though their bodies were all he could see, trying not to think of them, though their lives were all he could remember. The guardian forces ate away at memory, but in this silent wood, with their blood on the blackened earth, every recollection was as sharp as a blade. The orphanage, and then meeting them again, after their childhood together passed. Selphie on the mission in Dollet, waiting for him on the beach, shouting for him to run. Irvine, in Deling City, told to do what he said he could not, and he did it. Then Ultimecia, and falling with them through time, and they won, all of them, together. Never such a victory again.

It was this he had tried to hide from, the injury he had tried to avoid above all else. To have was to lose—one could not lose what one did not have. But he had gathered it, unwillingly and unawares, become a friend and taken friendship. And now two friends were dead. A wound to leave a scar deeper than Seifer's cut.

Then he raised his head, and through the scorched trees he saw his Garden, dashed from the sky, and something in him tore that could never heal.

 

* * *

Far faster, the Ragnarok caught up with Balamb Garden miles off Esthar's coast. Since the country's shield jammed the radios, they signaled with lights to arrange a midair landing. Selphie skillfully piloted them in without losing speed.

Zell was waiting for them in the Garden's garage, the Ragnarok's informal docking bay, and barely waited for the retro-engines to cool before approaching. When he saw Rinoa he gave a fleeting smile, but otherwise his aspect was much too serious. Uncharacteristically calm, he lead the way to the medical bay, talking as they walked. "We don't know what happened—I mean, I was right there, I saw it, but I didn't get it. Squall was talking to Raijin, and then he just...keeled over. He grabbed his head like he, I don't know, like he'd been hit or something. I asked what was wrong but I don't think he heard me. Then he fell. Xu called Dr. Kodawaki, but she didn't, she couldn't do anything..." He faltered. Selphie took his hand and squeezed comfortingly.

The hall outside the infirmary was informally guarded by a dozen SeeD and cadets, playing cards and conversing quietly. The whispers died as Dr. Kodawaki came out to meet them. "Did he..?" Zell began hopefully.

The doctor gravely shook her head. A muted sigh passed through all present; then they waited in respectful silence for Rinoa, Zell, and the others to enter before resuming their somber discussions.

Their commander lay on the bed in the furthest cubicle, on his back on top of the covers, still dressed. Only his jacket had been removed, draped over the back of a chair beside him. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell evenly.

Rinoa slid into the chair and curled her fingers around his hand. It was warm, which heartened her, but he didn't respond when she tightened her grip. "Squall? We're here. Quistis and Irvine and Selphie and me. They rescued me. I'm okay. We all are. Are you...can you hear me?"

He remained motionless. Zell's whole countenance drooped. "I was really hoping that you being here would...you know, wake him up."

"He's not just asleep," Dr. Kodawaki told them quietly. "I've tried several techniques, medical and magical, without response. But his brain functions aren't depressed enough to term it a coma. The closest comparison I can give is...you, Rinoa."

She didn't release his hand yet, her fingers twined in his limp ones. "After we fought Edea."

"There are parallels, especially in the complete lack of response."

"He's not cold like Rinoa was," Zell said quietly.

"It's not precisely the same," Dr. Kodowaki agreed. "The brain activity is far higher than yours was, Rinoa. It's almost as if he's awake, but his mind is elsewhere."

"Like dreaming," Selphie murmured. She rested a hand on Rinoa's shoulder as she gazed down at him, the trace of tears glistening unashamedly her eye.

"Dreaming elsewhere—like Ellone's 'dreams'," Quistis realized. "That's why we're going to Esthar."

Zell nodded unhappily. "I don't think she'd—I mean, Sis wouldn't send him into the past without asking. But maybe..."

"I don't believe this is Ellone's doing," Dr. Kodawaki said. "I've never witnessed someone in one of her visions, but if he were experiencing the past through her, there should be certain signs. Her psychic trace. I didn't find that."

"It's not Ellone," Rinoa said quietly, his hand still in hers. Her eyes were on his face, on his sealed eyelids, the clamped set of his chin, the faintly drawn brow. In repose his expression revealed more than it did awake. "Look at his expression. It's hurting..." She didn't want to think of him trapped in pain like that. Lying helpless—that wasn't Squall. He was quiet, thoughtful, even pensive, but when action was required he acted, with regret perhaps but without hesitation. Doubt might haunt him, but didn't paralyze him. He would not lie here by choice. Something had done this. Someone...

"He's still out? That's a damn shame, ya know..."

Rinoa turned to the doorway and blinked, surprised, though she had recognized the voice. "Raijin?" And of course Fujin beside him. "How'd you—"

"They came on board back at Galbadia," Irvine said. "We told you Seifer helped us—well, he sent them for an extra assist." He glanced at them, then looked harder at Raijin. "Hey, who gave you the shiner?"

That got Quistis and Selphie's attention off Squall long enough to check out the black eye, colorful even through Raijin's swarthy complexion. Zell colored as well, the tips of his ears going bright red. "I, uh, me. When Squall went down, I didn't know—he and Fujin were standing right there, and I kind of accused them..."

"With his fists," Dr. Kodowaki said tartly. "Before giving them a chance to defend themselves, verbally _or_ physically."

"'S'okay," Raijin said with surprising understanding. "Get where he was coming from, ya know? If Seifer went over like that, I'd be ticked too. And Fujin, you know what she'd be like—"

"DEFEND," Fujin agreed.

"Besides, it shook us too. Didn't expect it. Can't see Squall just going down like that, ya know?" Raijin looked at the commander's still figure with genuine sympathy. "Would surprise even Seifer, I bet. He won't like this. He's used to Squall being there, ya know?"

"He wouldn't try something like this," Quistis said. "He wants to defeat Squall in battle—"

"I know," Zell said. "I just couldn't think it through right away. I was so...it was so fast, he was fine, and then he was..." He dropped his head to study his sneakers, mumbling, "I couldn't even tell if he was breathing at first, and I was thinkin' about my grandfather, he had a heart attack and died..."

Rinoa closed her eyes. _No_. Not a heart attack, and he was alive. Not even a coma, Dr. Kodawaki had said. He would awaken—he might at any time. She focused on the steady rhythm of his breathing and tried to ignore the paleness of his skin, the violet tinge to the shadows over his closed lids.

In the background she heard the office com chime and Dr. Kodowaki answer the summons. She returned in a moment. "Xu says Esthar has contacted us."

"We better go talk with them, then," Zell said, running his hand nervously through his spiky hair. "Uh, Quistis, do you want to...or Rinoa?"

"I'd...like to stay here," Rinoa said, knowing it was selfish, but unwilling to leave. Not when there was any chance those storm-gray eyes might open.

"We'll go," Quistis agreed. "You stay with him." She clasped Rinoa's shoulder for an instant before striding from the room. With a final glance back at Squall, Zell followed, Irvine and Selphie trailing after him.

"Hope he'll be okay. It ain't right, ya know?" Raijin muttered.

"_Hope_," Fujin echoed, without her usual curt diction. Rinoa met her gaze, and saw an understanding in the other woman's one eye that she did not expect. Then they were gone, the door closing behind them to leave her alone with Squall.

She knew they all, consciously or not, expected something of her. Zell's expectancy. A miracle from their friend, from the Sorceress, from the one person who meant anything to Squall. It wasn't true, she knew; they all meant much to him, though he was uneasy admitting it and even more unwilling to express it. Even to her, at times, though he was changing, growing. Maybe because of her. Maybe because of himself, because of the heart he barely knew he had, bright and great as it was.

She knew their love was real, as real as her Sorceress's powers. But all her uncertain magic could do no good here, and as for the other, there was no special power in it, no matter what they might wish.

Fujin was right. There was hope. Love ensured that that, if nothing else.

 

* * *

Esthar's energy shields were such that radio communication was impossible unless they wished it, and opened a directed line of transmission via technologies other nations were barely in a position to understand, let alone use. The Garden had the capabilities to send as well as receive, but the SeeD had not quite mastered the equipment, and besides Esthar generally refused contact unless they initiated it.

When Quistis and the others arrived on the bridge, Xu was trying to convince the Esthar official to allow them free passage on the grounds of an emergency. He was far from convinced. "We have an emergency ourselves," he was saying as they entered. "One I believe you know of—your people were in contact with the Lunatic Pandora, were you not? Esthar may have a reputation for invulnerability, but I assure you the Lunar Cry last year was no small catastrophe, even for us. If you saw the monsters that infested our city—"

"We did," Quistis broke in. "We fought quite a few of them. We sympathize with your problems, but all we want is to enter—"

"We can't lower our shields," the official protested. "If we drop them far enough to let your Garden through, we'd be up to our collars in monsters all over again."

"Not that you could see them anyway, over those collars," Irvine muttered. Selphie's elbow in his ribs advised him to save the fashion critique for a more suitable occasion.

"How about just a small ship?" Quistis suggested.

"I'm afraid not."

"But..." She sighed. "Can I speak to your president?"

"Excuse me?" The official blinked down his nose at the outrageous request.

"Contact Minister Kiros. Tell him it's Instructor Quistis Trepe of Balamb Garden, and I need to speak to Lagu—I mean, President Loire."

Frowning doubtfully, the official did as she asked. He returned a moment later, clearly surprised. "I'm to put you through immediately."

There was barely a pause; the screen flickered and Laguna appeared. "Quistis! Hello!"

She managed a near smile to answer his bright one. "Hello, Laguna." She knew she should show more formality to someone both older and of a higher rank, but after 'meeting' him first as a friend—as Kiros, to be exact—much in his past, it was hard to think of him as who he was now. Besides, Laguna's entire self invited informality.

He cocked his head at her now, his smile fading as his sharp eyes took in her face, and those behind her. "Hello, guys. What's the matter? Where's Squall?"

"Got it in one," Irvine muttered.

"That's—that's why we're coming," Quistis said, bracing herself as shock rippled across Laguna's usually laid-back features. "Is Ellone around?"

"I was just talking with her. She's in the other room now," he said. "Why? Does she have something to do with this?"

"Maybe," Quistis said. "She might be able to help." And she explained.

 

* * *

Balamb Garden was fallen, like the cities of the ancients, smashed to the earth. The great field-wheel which once powered its levitation was split in two, broken wings of a murdered bird. The central spire listed, delicate-seeming glass and metal cruelly crushed, like a child's top stamped by a giant's boot.

Squall skidded down the blackened slope, kicking up clouds of ash that powdered his hair and jacket gray and made his eyes tear. The closer he came, the more damage was evident. Not a single pane of glass was intact, nor a brace still straight.

He coughed to clear his throat of the pervasive ash, then shouted. "Can anyone hear me?" His voice echoed across the valley, resonating through the shattered Garden. Wind whistled between the points of the fractured spire.

There was no answer. Wiping the dust from his eyes, he lowered his head and trudged forward. The breeze seemed colder and sharper, driving the gritty cinders against his mouth and nose, a bitter taste on his tongue. He drew his collar close to screen what he could and kept walking.

The main gates were twisted aside, as if a missile had been fired through them. Here he found SeeD, guarding the entrance.

Dead. All dead.

They lay scattered across the path like threshed grain, uniforms and civilian clothes spattered with scarlet, swords, knives, and guns clutched in their cooling hands. Their eyes were wide and their mouths open, leaking trickles of blood.

He couldn't put name to all of them, but he recognized every face, and he recalled more names than he forgot. SeeD, instructors, cadets. The boy Mikal, a full-sized flail in his small hands. Selphie had been training him to fight. He was back-to-back with his friend Janare, wielding her knife. Neither their united defense nor their youth had been enough to save them. A few yards away their teacher was sprawled on her stomach.

The farther he walked, the more he saw. A cadet from another squad during his SeeD test. A leader of the Card Club, whom he had played against and won, and lost, several times. SeeD transferred from Trabia and Galbadia; a Galbadian who had assisted them in the battle between the Gardens.

At the entryway, Xu had fallen in her tracks, one arm raised over her head. She had been giving orders when she died, commanding the SeeD in their hopeless defense. Had she lived long enough to see their fight become a massacre?

Or had it never been a battle at all, but only murder. There was no sign of the enemy, not a single corpse, though the SeeD were of the best warriors in the world. He didn't know of any force, military or magical, that could wreak this havoc. Except in Ultimecia's dark future, where SeeD fought on, and died in the shadow of her castle.

But for the wind, the echoes of which he still could hear through the wrecked walls, everything was silent. The chain of his lion pendant jangled faintly with each step; if not for that ringing he would have thought himself deaf. He almost wished for blindness as well.

The central hub was mostly empty, save for debris. It was slow going, working around the felled struts and blasted terminals. Not expecting an answer, he called out for one anyway, praying, fighting the nausea churning his stomach. He tried to avoid the bodies he noticed, but he couldn't miss Dr. Kodowaki. She slumped against the low wall by the medical bay, partially upright, her glassy eyes staring forward. Her brow was lowered, so her expression was not surprise or shock but a kind of resolute anger.

To Squall, she looked accusing, and he could not hide from her indictment, as clear in his mind as her voice had been in life. _Where were you? You're the commander. You had a responsibility to your people. You had a responsibility to us._

Unable to answer, he finally turned from her dark stare and stumbled away. The sickness that had risen in his gorge faded; he felt like one of the dead, still moving but numb. He tripped on an angled beam and scraped his hand on the metal edge, but though blood welled up through his torn glove there was barely any pain, and he only stared at it dumbly until the cut stopped bleeding.

By the time he found Nida, it no longer seemed he was seeing a corpse, only a thing. Not the remains of a man once alive, but an object, a symbol which had lost meaning through too much repetition.

It only belatedly occurred to Squall that the pilot was positioned with others to protect the bridge. Of course they had failed. They had had no other successes. Yet he was unable to prevent a small moment of hope. There were some few he hadn't seen. Zell, Quistis. Rinoa. Of them all, the best fighters. If there were any chance...

He climbed to the bridge. And there he found them, and every prayer was ashes.


	6. Castling

It took Dahl nearly an hour to be sure, and once his task was accomplished he lapsed into a rest nine parts sleep and one part trance. Some twelve hours later the lord awoke in Jezikan's chambers. He yawned and stretched as his lady asked, impatiently, "Well?"

"It's done," he reported with a sinuous smile.

Some of her tension eased. "Good. Is he dead?"

"Not yet." Dahl arched his back, cat-like, then swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his chin to check for stubble. "He's what I'd call, mm, a tough nut to crack. Beautifully so. But I yet succeeded. The SeeD commander won't interfere with us, I assure you."

"Good," she said. "Now get up."

One brow lifted. "I thought you liked me in your bed."

"Not now," she snapped. "Get to your chambers and pack, quickly. While you were lazing, the SeeD took back the Sorceress."

"I'm not surprised," Dahl remarked, "considering what I witnessed." He smirked at her. "You're slipping after all, Jezikan. He is old enough, and his tastes are for women. You simply didn't suit him."

"Forget the barbs. There isn't time. The Knight is leading the people against the Presidency. Half the army marches with him, and the other half—"

"The soldiers loyal to us are gone to Fisherman's Horizon. I see." All semblance of lassitude gone, Dahl arose and prowled to his private exit. "I'll soon be ready. What are we doing?"

"Going where it's safe," she said. "Stay with those still loyal—follow my husband."

"Into battle—brilliant. That's the safest place I can imagine."

"Spare me the sarcasm. It's Fisherman's Horizon, Dahl. They won't fight back, not with weapons. Our force is large enough to persuade them to give in to our demands, and they'll capitulate quickly to prevent needless bloodshed. If you've truly taken care of the SeeD commander, there'll be no problems."

"He's down, and won't rise," Dahl confirmed, black eyes sparking. "I hope you're half as sure of what you are saying as I am of that." He hesitated at the doorway. "Would it suit us better if I also stopped the knight? I know him well enough."

"No." Jezikan had already considered and rejected the idea. "Kill him and he'll be a martyr; remove him and they'll push onward despite their loss. He ignited the people, but they'd already reached critical mass. It's too late to extinguish this, not with our resources here. In Fisherman's Horizon we'll be better able."

"I'll pack," Dahl conceded, and hastened to do so.

 

* * *

"Hey."

Rinoa blinked rapidly to make sure her eyes were still open, and looked to the door. Zell entered the dark room cautiously, his gaze on Squall's still face, ashen in the dim light. His shoulders fell when he saw there was no change in his commander's condition.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked.

Zell shook his head. "Esthar doesn't want us crossing their boundary. Something about their shield. They're really firm about it. We talked to Laguna; he says he'll do whatever he can. He's worried about this, too. Since Squall is his...well, you know about that." He sighed, deflating further. "Ellone's not doing it. She hasn't sent anyone anywhere since the time compression. I think she's scared to try. In case Ultimecia could come back or something. Anyway, she's definitely not doing this."

"I didn't think so," Rinoa remarked, more to herself than him.

Zell put a hand on her shoulder, a little awkwardly. "Quistis told me to tell you to get some sleep. She's already sent Irvine and Selphie to bed."

"And what about her?"

"Oh...she's trying to get hold of Seifer. In case he knows more than Fujin and Raijin. I should've done that right away." He sighed. "I wish Quistis had been here instead of me. She would've known what to do. Me...I just panicked."

"You went to Esthar," Rinoa reminded him.

"Me and Nida and Xu decided on that together. When we couldn't get through to Cid at Fisherman's Horizon we couldn't think of anything else to do."

"At least you were here." Rinoa scrubbed her face with her palms. "You were doing _something_ other than waiting around to be rescued. Sometimes...sometimes I think my dad was right. I'm not SeeD; I'm not trained for any of this. I just slow you guys down."

"Rinoa, don't." Zell had mastered that tone of utter seriousness. "Squall wouldn't listen to that, and I don't want to either. And he shouldn't have to hear you sayin' that. It's bullshit. You've been with us for over a year now, and I don't remember losing any fights because you were there. I remember winning a lot of 'em. And from what Quistis said, you weren't exactly helpless there in Deling City, either. She said _you_ saved _them_."

"It wasn't...that's different," Rinoa protested, weakly because she was exhausted, and because Zell's conviction was a powerful force to face. Usually she wouldn't believe what she was saying, when she was awake and well and Squall stood beside her. Sitting in this dark room by him now, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been fooling herself after all. "It wasn't me. It's the Sorceress...I'm not possessed anymore, but that person, the Sorceress...it's not really me, either. They're my powers, I control them, but when I cast a spell, it's different now. My magic isn't talent, or because I trained hard—I only can do it because I was given that mantle. Anyone could've gotten it; I just happened to be there. It's what I am, but not who I am..." She stopped talking, realizing through her fatigue that she wasn't making sense.

Yet Zell didn't have trouble following. "You're wrong, Rinoa. Well, you're right, too. But even if anyone else got the Sorceress powers, they wouldn't be you. And I think it'd be a lot worse if anyone else did get them. Edea might've granted them to you because knew you could have them...she could've given them to someone else, but she didn't."

"She didn't know me," Rinoa said. "She didn't want to curse any of her children like that."

"Maybe." Zell considered this, then shook his head. "No, that's not it, but it doesn't matter. What I was trying to say is, you're the Sorceress, but you're still Rinoa, and that's important. That you're the Sorceress Rinoa. You have these powers and you do good things with them, because that's who you are. What you do with them, it's all your choice, and that's what defines you. Not what you _can_ do, but what you actually _do_." He rubbed the back of his head perplexedly. "Uh...y'know?"

"Yeah. I think I do now." She couldn't help but smile. "When did you get so good at argument? I thought fists were your thing."

"Yeah, well, a fight's a fight, I figure, and I never liked losing."

"Is that why you don't play cards?...sorry." She stifled a yawn. "I'm kind of tired."

"Then go to bed."

She nodded and stood, pausing a moment to let the blood rush back to her head. "I'll watch him," Zell promised. "Just in case."

"Thank you." The idea of sleep was more seductive than before, as she fought inertia to move. But looking at Squall again tied her in place, a twisting of her gut to see him lying there so wrongly. "I'll come back as soon as I'm up," she whispered. "Good night." And she left, before he saw her tears, either Squall or Zell, she didn't know from whose eyes she hid, when neither pair were watching her.

 

* * *

"...she's gonna get really annoyed with you if you just keep lying here, you know she hates being ignored—"

"Ahh..."

At the quiet murmur Zell jumped out of the chair by Squall's bed as if zapped by a cattle prod. Quistis, standing in the doorway, raised an eyebrow inquisitively as he mumbled, "I was, just, uh...I've heard people in comas are aware of things around them, so I was...I wanted him to know he's not alone."

"I've heard that, too." Quistis approached, stumbling a little with fatigue. He didn't need to ask her how much success she had had with Seifer; the negative answer was apparent in every line of her body. She barely noticed when Zell pushed her into the chair, relaxing against it gratefully. "You think he's aware of us?"

"Well, it can't hurt, anyway," Zell said pragmatically. "I had to do something, I can't just sit here with him like this, right?"

Quistis shook her lowered head. "It's too different," Zell continued. "He's always out in front, whatever the battle it. Remember Ultimecia? That final blow with Lionheart...he did it. He couldn't have fought her without us, but he was the one who ended it. He's the hero; he always is. But you can't get jealous about it, because he's not trying to be one—he just is. Like Rinoa is the Sorceress. It's not because they pretend, or force themselves. It's just true.

"And heroes aren't supposed to..." Zell trailed off.

"He's not," Quistis said, fiercely. "He won't."

"Not that," Zell said. "Not dying. I meant heroes are always supposed to be doing something. They fight, and they win."

"In stories."

"This isn't a story. What we did isn't just a story. Squall's not just a legend, any more than Rinoa's only a myth because she's a Sorceress. They're our friends, Quistis. But he's still a hero. And he's going to win. He _has_ to."

"Unless he's already lost," she replied, so quietly she might not have spoken at all.

 

* * *

She lay in his arms, cold and motionless, and Squall didn't hear his own voice calling to her. "Rinoa..."

_Now what?_ asked a tiny corner of his mind, a still place so deep nothing could reach it. Where did he want to go? _Nowhere_. What was he supposed to do? _Nothing_. There was no provision, no protocol, on the books or in his mind. Not for this.

She lay in his arms, broken.

The silence was no longer foreboding, but yet present, like a physical being. He hardly dared breathe to damage it. He thought he might be deaf, with even the wind's voice muted.

A retort behind him slew that omnipresent quiet. Glass shards crackled under thick-soled boots. Footsteps, approaching. Another thing alive in the tomb of the Garden. Slowly, he turned.

Seifer leisurely picked his way across the demolished bridge, stepping over the leveled struts, kicking a sharply split beam out of his path before it ripped his coattails. In one hand he idly swung his gunblade. Scarlet flowed down the razor edge and dripped from the point, but his ungloved hands were clean. Immaculate, pure as his white coat, and the cross he wore beneath was redder than the blood.

Squall felt the other's eyes on him, but could not lift his own to meet them.

"So the commander arrives at last." The knight raised his gore-drenched blade. "Did you run, Squall? Did you hide, when I came?"

Carefully, with infinite tenderness, he lowered Rinoa's body to the floor, then stood and faced his rival. "Why?"

Seifer laughed. "That's all you can ask? 'Why?' Why not? Why shouldn't I?" He grinned, gestured with his gunblade at the entire fallen Garden. "This is big enough for me, don't you think?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Not what? Not how? Just why. Does it matter, Squall? I did it." Casually he slipped his other hand around the hilt and cocked the weapon. "They were no good, none of 'em. They couldn't fight me—they didn't know how. I was looking for you, Squall. You I can fight. But you were gone."

"I don't want to fight." He didn't reach for his sheath. He was worn to the marrow of his bones. They had dueled so many times before; what did it matter now? He could quench Lionheart's flame in Seifer's heart-blood, and Rinoa would still be dead.

"Cid would be disappointed in you," Seifer remarked, offhandedly. "Even if it's too late for him, and Edea, and all their beautiful, precious SeeD. Even when you're the only one left of all the Gardens in the world. He would have wanted you to stop me.

He prowled toward his rival, smiling still. "Your friends, too. The two outside, the first I met—the little messenger girl and her pretty boyfriend, out there searching for you. Xu tried to radio you until the end. Our dear instructor Trepe screamed for you with her last breath. And that coward," he waved negligently at Zell's corpse, "he backed up until he was against the wall, and then he lashed out at me in your name."

Squall shook his head.

Seifer took another step, close enough to look down at him, ice eyes half-lidded. "That was how they all went. All the SeeD, burning with faith in their faithless commander. Like candles, a wisp of smoke and they were gone. And I the wind that blew them out."

All out. It was too late for them, for any of them. His fist closed around the grip of his gunblade.

"You're the hero, Squall. Protect the world. Slay the monsters. Kill the Sorceress...

"She was the last. The hardest. To murder who I might have served...I couldn't. Not completely. She didn't plead for her life. She fought me, but she never begged for mercy." Seifer drew one finger along his wet blade, staining the tip with red. "And she never cried for her knight to come. Maybe she was that sure that he would." He traced the bloodied digit over the cross on his tunic, marking his heart. "Or maybe she knew he wouldn't."

Lionheart slid cleanly from its sheath, the metal whispering against the rigid leather.

"And now you see you must fight," Seifer crowed. "It's always been this way, Squall. Night and day. Black and white." He raised his arms, so his bleached coat glowed in the sunbeams piercing the fissured ceiling. In his hand his blade shimmered scarlet. "Good and evil. Always. There's no choice. This is what we are. This is destiny."

"I don't want to fight you," Squall said again, and swung his gunblade.

Seifer's met his blow in a violent clash of metal and magic, sparks skittering between the swords. Counter, then block, then he slashed out again. Driven back, forcing forward, then back again.

The knight's thrust came too fast to parry, too close to dodge. It scored his arm, tearing through fabric and flesh, but Seifer had over-extended for the hit. He ignored the burning in his arm and pressed that advantage, slicing a long gash in the white sleeve.

With a hiss of pain, Seifer fell back. Red blood welled forth to speck the purity of his coat. Silently Squall watched him flex his fingers, testing the limits of the injury. He held his own blade at ready in one hand while he clamped his other over his cut arm. The black leather jacket hid the wound, but he could feel fluid heat seeping through his glove.

"First blood," Seifer snarled. One hand rose to his scarred forehead, then dropped. He smiled wolfishly, the new blood bright on his blade. "You're the first of them all to touch me. And you won't again."

Squall said nothing, wheeling around with both hands on the gunblade to strike sudden and low. Seifer answered with a countering stab, and the battle was truly joined.

 

* * *

Dr. Kodowaki's assistant, working at the main desk, said nothing when Rinoa walked into the medical wing, only nodded greeting as she passed. Quistis was alone in the cubicle, sitting where she had left Zell with one hand resting on Squall's arm. Upon Rinoa's arrival she leaned back and folded her hands in her lap.

Taking another chair from the office, Rinoa sat beside the foot of the bed, next to Quistis. "Good morning," she said, then, "It's around morning, right?"

"I think so." The instructor checked her watch, shrugged. "No idea, really; it's still set to Galbadian time. The sun's about up, anyway. You didn't sleep very long."

"Me? Did you sleep at all?"

"A couple hours." Quistis rubbed the back of her neck. "Then I relieved Zell—he needed it more. Xu's back on the bridge now with Nida—we're going to Fisherman's Horizon to find Cid. Irvine and Selphie should be up soon. I might go back to bed then."

"You can go now," Rinoa said. "Before we reach FH. I don't need rest—I've been asleep for the last couple days."

Quistis eyed her sharply. "Drugs and magic don't count. You need time to recover."

"I need food, actually. I'm starved. The snack on the Ragnarok is all used up."

"That was the last time you ate? Visit to the cafeteria first. I'll wait here. And Squall's not going anywhere."

So Rinoa went and fetched a full tray, enough breads and juice for two, figuring Quistis could use a dinner before retiring. When she returned, the instructor had stood and was leaning over Squall. She jerked upright when Rinoa entered, pale skin flushing rose.

Rinoa put the tray on the stand in the corner, then closed the door and turned back around. "Quistis?"

The SeeD's eyes were downcast, one hand toying with the edge of her vest as if groping for the whip not with her. "Rinoa...I...I'm sorry."

"Why?" Rinoa asked, reasonably. Quistis's slender shoulders rose and fell as she shook her blonde head, saying nothing. "If you mean about Squall, it's not your fault, of course, and I'm sorry it's happening too." She crossed to the bed and gazed down at him. Motionless but for the rhythm of his chest as he breathed. Even his lashes were still, pressed to his cheek by lids still too tightly closed.

She knew Quistis was beside her, glanced over and saw the other girl's blue eyes fixed on him. Rinoa reached back to catch her wrist before she could avoid it, gently pulled Quistis forward to place her hand over Squall's. "It'll help, if he can feel it at all. You know he doesn't like being alone, no matter what he says sometimes."

Quistis nodded wordlessly.

"You love him," Rinoa said quietly.

The SeeD nodded again, then shook her head. "Not like that. I don't know...I don't think I ever loved him that way, really. But I thought..." Quistis began to pull her hand back, then met Rinoa's earnest gaze and stopped. "I thought I did for a long time. I remember...as kids, when we all lived at the orphanage, I liked him even then. And at the Garden, he was the best fighter, of the cadets and of SeeD, too. Honorable, too. He was always polite. Intelligent, even if he didn't say much."

"And cute," Rinoa added, a touch mischievously.

Quistis couldn't hide the small smile. "And cute. Though actually I prefer them taller. And a bit older."

"That was why I first noticed him," Rinoa said. "His looks. His whole look." She put one hand to his still face, her fingers along his cheek sweeping back the soft brown hair. "At the SeeD ball, he was by himself against the wall. The best-looking guy there, and no one would dance with him. I could tell by the way he was standing there what his attitude was like. And I thought... It was a challenge. I like challenges."

"That was when I knew," Quistis said. "When I saw you two dancing together. I knew, whatever I wanted, or thought I wanted, it wasn't there. I never could have gotten him to dance."

"You could've ordered him to."

Quistis laughed out loud. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"He would've done it, too." Rinoa smiled as well, though with regret. "Quistis, I guessed how you felt. Not long after I met you. I'm sorry I never said anything. I never meant..."

"You're my friend, Rinoa," Quistis said. "As much as Squall is. I love both of you. And I'm glad you know, even if it doesn't mean anything—it honestly doesn't, now. I'm...over him, Selphie would say. I have been for a while. But I still care...I'm scared for him now. I just didn't want you to think—"

There was a knock on the door before Dr. Kodowaki's assistant opened it. "Instructor Trepe, Rinoa, I don't mean to interrupt, but Xu's on the com. She needs an opinion; something's come up."

"I'll come," Rinoa said. "Quistis, you go to bed—"

"No. Stay here," Quistis stopped her. "Like you said, he shouldn't be alone." Relinquishing her hold on Squall's fingers, she replaced her hand with Rinoa's. Then she headed for the door, pausing only to grab a bun from the tray. "Thanks for bringing breakfast—it looks like morning is here whether we want it or not."

 

* * *

"It's a ship," Xu explained, once Quistis arrived on the bridge. "A small one, and fast."

"It's coming like a bat out of hell, straight from Esthar," Nida elucidated. "And there's another one a few miles behind it. They've gotta be Esthar's; they're going as fast as the Ragnarok, almost."

"Have you tried to raise them on the radio?" Quistis asked.

"We've tried," Xu said. "There's some kind of scrambler blocking our signal."

"Ships from Esthar?" Irvine and Selphie stepped off the lift. "Could Laguna have sent 'em?"

"He said he'd try what he could," Quistis allowed. "But if we can't contact them—"

"Let me try," Selphie offered. "I figured out a bit about their computers and all when we were in Esthar."

"Be my guest." Xu stepped aside to let Selphie fiddle with the radio controls. Nibbling the corner of her lip in concentration, the brunette flipped a few switches to open a broadband signal, then typed a string of combinations while Irvine watched intently over her shoulder. Xu went on reporting, "We didn't detect the first ship until it was practically on top of us, and the only reason we found out about the other one was because we aimed a radar beam directly at it, trying to get a fix on the first. They're both cloaked—"

Selphie sat back and beamed. "That's it! Try now."

"Unidentified Esthar vessel—" Quistis began.

"We hear you, Quistis," a familiar voice interrupted. "How'd you break my scramble?"

Selphie leaned over to the microphone. "I remembered what you said about your card games, Sir Laguna. You really oughta pick better codes than your winning hands—I know your favorite cards!"

"Laguna, you're on that ship?" demanded Quistis.

"Me, and I brought Ellone," Laguna replied. "Sorry about the scrambler, but I wanted radio silence—"

"What about the ship behind you?" Quistis cut him off.

"Uh...behind us?"

A new voice joined the communication. "Don't worry about that. It's just me and Ward."  
"Kiros?" Laguna and Quistis spoke simultaneously.

The minister's chuckle came through loud and clear. "Hello, Quistis. Sorry to creep up on you like this, but we couldn't miss the party."

"But I thought you were back at the capital," Laguna protested. "Weren't you staying at the manor—"

"Laguna," Kiros said, patiently. "We knew all about the situation with the Garden and Squall—I was right there, remember. An hour later you just happen to decide that you and Ellone are going on an exploratory jaunt along the borders to verify the shield's working proper. And I'm supposed to kick back at my desk and believe you? Give us a _little_ credit. I would've been right on your tail, but I had to pick up Ward. Oh, he says hello to Quistis, Selphie, anyone else who's there."

"Hi!" Selphie chirped. "You're all coming aboard?"

"As soon as we get there," Laguna replied. "Kiros, I know what you're thinking, but I'm not coming back until this is figured out. If Ellone can't do anything..."

"We're not here to drag you back," Kiros said. "Esthar will send other ministers for that, when they need you. We just suspect you might need us." He paused a moment. "Besides, like Ward just said, it's a bad idea to let you out of sight—we miss too much when we do!"

"You're all welcome," Quistis said. "We're heading to Fisherman's Horizon now. I hope—"

Her hope was interrupted by Xu, who had been monitoring another line, and now flipped the television signal onto the main screen. "Sorry to interrupt, sir," she said, "but this is one broadcast we need to see."

 

* * *

Sooner or later, hard work and perseverance pays off. So his mother had always said, and it appeared as if sometimes this was actually true. Maybe not in the army, but there were advantages to civilian life, George Biggs was learning. One was that civilians of conquered provinces tended to treat you a lot nicer, even if you lost the discounts a uniform brought. Another was that when working outside the ridiculous stricture of military bureaucracy, you could actually get something done, without having to worry about being reassigned at the last moment while someone better at sucking up to the brass took the credit.

That didn't mean everything came easily, of course. The people of Timber didn't actively spit in their faces anymore, but they were difficult to win over. Gradually, as they realized the two ex-soldiers were serious in their chosen task, the people thawed. After all, restarting the train between Timber station and Fisherman's Horizon would definitely benefit the country. All reasonable trade access to FH had been cut off for years. When they got the train running again, Timber's profit in import and export tithes would soar.

So would Galbadia's, of course, since they ruled Timber. But that didn't matter to Biggs and his partner, not anymore. They had renounced Galbadian citizenship when they had thrown down their arms and walked off the Lunatic Pandora—good name for it; only a lunatic would stick around that monstrosity. If Biggs ever got cancer, he'd decided he'd sue the Galbadian government for exposing him to the thing. And all on the orders of that fool Sorceress's lackey. A kid called himself a knight, and the oh-so-wise officials bought it. Even hired him again, after the fiasco was over.

They didn't want any part of that idiotic state any longer. Work alongside Seifer and his fawning minions? No, thank you. Dignity has its limits. So now they were voluntary exiles, and independent contractors. The profession was Wedge's idea, but it had been a good one, Biggs had to admit. And it wouldn't have succeeded if he hadn't come up with this contract.

He'd always loved trains, had a full model set as a boy. Given the chance to play with the real thing, how could he pass it up? It hadn't been all games, of course. That he knew absolutely nothing about how a real train worked, except that pulling the cord made the whistle blow, was a small stumbling block. And the bureaucracies involved were something of a hindrance, though after a long career the Galbadian army hierarchy, all the forms to sign and officials to placate were old hand. Fisherman's Horizon proved trickier to deal with than Timber, but he eventually worked out every contract, attained every permit, and crossed every 't', with surprisingly little spent on bribes, at that. There was even hope that someday the line might again extend to Esthar—Biggs had actually discussed the possibility with the Esthar president himself. A thoroughly likable chap; rumor said he was a former Galbadian soldier himself. Loire wasn't adverse to eventually reopening Esthar's station, and with his approval, Fisherman's Horizon conceded all the way.

That left only the matter of preparing the tracks and obtaining a train, piece of cake, after what had come before. Hard work and perseverance, that was all it took. For nine months they had strove for this, and today they would experience the fruit of their labors.

Seated in the locomotive at the engineer's position, striped hat and all, Biggs yanked hard on the cord, and smiled as the whistle screamed. They really should have President Deling himself here to drive the last nail, figuratively speaking, but at this moment the small crowd gathered on the platform was enough. Everything was set to go, except for his partner. "Sergeant! Er, Private! I mean—" Sometimes he forgot they weren't soldiers anymore. "Lucas! Get your skinny ass in gear and let's go!"

"Hey, George—" Wedge, on the other hand, never seemed to have any trouble remembering their lack of rank. But for once he didn't sound infuriatingly cheerful. Leave it to him, the one day he had a perfect right to be. "You better see this."

"What?" Biggs snapped, irritated to be torn from his spotlight. He tromped to the secondary car, where Wedge was supposedly making the final checks on the radio. Instead, his partner was hunched over the little black and white TV handset he'd blown his last soldier's paycheck on. "Turn that thing off," Biggs ordered. "I don't care if _The Time of Our Lives_ is on; I don't care what Marle and Glenn are—"

"Shut up," Wedge silenced him peremptorily, and thrust the set under Biggs' nose. "Listen."

President Ferdid Deling's face filled the tiny screen. He was smiling. It didn't suit him. "My fellow Galbadians, and citizens of all nations, this is a momentous agreement indeed. Fisherman's Horizon will not be the only ones to gain here. Galbadia is proud to be a part of this undertaking—"

He couldn't be talking about _them_, could he? Surely the President would have informed them earlier...but perhaps their efforts were more appreciated than they knew...

That didn't explain why Wedge looked so dour. He glanced inquiringly at his partner, who only gestured to the set. The President continued, "Fisherman's Horizon, under the auspices of Galbadia's bright flag, will bring the benefits of their great technologies and magics to every corner of the globe. Secrets will no longer be held by these privileged few, but shared for the good of all. Fisherman's Horizon realizes as well as we do that their isolationism, like Esthar's, is misguided. They are grateful to Galbadia for opening these new avenues. And we will open more, lighting all the dark places on the maps.

"I speak to you now from Fisherman's Horizon. After this broadcast, I will enter in private session with the Mayor to complete our treaty. In order to facilitate negotiations, until we've finalized the details of this glorious accord, there will be no trade, travel or communication to or from Fisherman's Horizon. I leave you, citizens, with—"

Biggs came close to breaking the edict. His communication was nearly heard in FH. "_**Damn it ALL**_!!!"

 

* * *

As he finished his broadcast, Ferdid Deling observed those watching in person. His men were busy with the television equipment or guarding citizens of Fisherman's Horizon. All those present were gathered around their mayor, not protectively but huddling like children at their mother's skirt. The old man watched from the middle of the group, tiredly, it seemed. He'd barely opened his mouth to protest when the soldiers marched into his house. His harridan of a wife had screeched loud enough for both, but she hadn't raised a hand in defense, either. Cowards, the lot of them. This couldn't be counted as a conquest. His grand talk of an alliance was more on the mark, even if no one present believed a word he had said.

His speech completed, the Galbadian president stepped from the wooden riser, and frowned at the single pair of hands applauding. He frowned deeper when he saw the sardonic smile beyond them. Striding across the stage, he confronted the man and the woman beside him. "Dahl. Jezikan. Why are you here?"

Dahl clapped a final time and lowered his hands. "A brilliant oration, Mr. President. Most inspiring."

"You'll call me General Deling here," Ferdid said coldly. "And you'll show me no disrespect."

"I intend none, General," Dahl purred.

"Forget the posturing," Jezikan snapped. "We aren't on vacation. Almasy has staged a coup, contrary to your expectations about a knight's honor." Confident she had her husband's full attention, she explained in more detail, low enough not to reach other soldiers' ears. "We're safer here than at the capital. And here we can do something about this uprising."

"Not now," Ferdid said. "That little speech we just broadcast over every band was only to buy time. Making this public means we won't face charges of conspiracy. But the Garden moves against us as we speak. We have to prepare this city for siege."

Jezikan looked askance at Lord Dahl. "Perhaps it won't be as difficult—"

"No," Ferdid growled. "Forget the warlock's tricks. This is war. The doctor is optimistic..." Ecstatic might have better described his mood as he fell upon the major engineering center sited beneath Fisherman's Horizon. Mechanics with their gadgets meant little to Ferdid, unless they were war machines. But the doctor had been certain he would find all he needed here. "He still needs some time, however, before it's completed—"

He heard the reaction of the FH citizens before he saw his men approaching, the ripple of surprised dismay spreading through the crowd. Four soldiers escorted one man, a short, balding, middle-aged individual in a rumpled brown vest. Dahl and Jezikan followed Ferdid's gaze to him. "Who is it?" Dahl hissed.

"Someone I'm far more pleased to see than you. Or you, lady wife." Ferdid marched over. The man peered myopically through his spectacles as Deling nodded to him. "Galbadia extends her greetings, Cid Kramer."

 

* * *

"And that's all you know?" Laguna sounded less accusing than simply unhappy. Despite everything Quistis had already told him, the actual sight of his son, unconscious and unresponsive, shook him more than the knowledge of the mystery. Never taking his eyes off Squall, he pulled every detail of his collapse out of Dr. Kodowaki, anxiously but not angrily, even when she only admitted ignorance for most of his questions.

While they discussed the useless particulars she had already heard, Rinoa made her own entreaty. Ellone had accompanied Laguna, coming to the medical bay direct from the docking garage. She had tears in her eyes as she laid her hand on Squall's arm. But she twisted away when Rinoa made her request. "I can't...I haven't. Not for a year. Not since Ultimecia..."

"She's gone," Rinoa said. "Squall needs you now, Ellone. If you'd only try—"

"It doesn't work like that." Ellone wrapped her green cardigan more tightly around herself, as if the warm room were chill. "I can't...just touch people. I can only send people I know into others' pasts."

"You know me," Rinoa said. "Send me into Squall—the same way you sent him into me when I was in space. Put me in his closest past before now. So I can see where he is. Please, Ellone. You did it for him before, so he could save me—do this for me now. To help him."

Laguna and Dr. Kodowaki had gone quiet, watching them. Ellone glanced back to her old guardian, then folded her arms over her breasts. "I'll try," she whispered.

She didn't take Rinoa's hand, or look to Squall, only closed her eyes. Rinoa felt a vaguely familiar sensation, as if she were rising, the air itself tugging her, while at the same time a lassitude swept over her, weighing her down. Then it passed, abruptly as it had begun.

Ellone exhaled sharply. "I can't," she gasped. "It's like—there's nothing there. Where he should be, it's as if I'm reaching into a vacuum. There's nothing I can link you to."

"It's okay." Laguna put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly.

She shook her head tearfully. "It's _not_ okay. That emptiness—I've never felt that. I can't find him in there. He's gone..."

"No." Rinoa kept her voice calm with effort. "We'll find him. Send me back farther. Find him in the past—the moment he fell. We need to know what happened then."

Ellone swallowed, then brushed her bangs from her eyes and nodded.

This time Rinoa didn't even see her close her eyes. She was sitting in the chair, and then she was tumbling into a rainbow abyss. Sound and light drowned her.

The chaos ebbed, took shape once more. Colors. Form. Voices. She heard Zell speaking, then a gruff baritone replied. Raijin. Zell asked a question.

"Yeah, I'm listening." The words came from her mouth, but in Squall's voice. She could feel him—she was him, and yet she was herself. His presence surrounded her, as comforting as being physically held in his arms.

"_Squall_?" she asked, and heard her voice, though not aloud. He was talking to Raijin and Zell; she could see them clearly before her. "_Can you hear me_?"

_Rinoa_? Unlike his speaking voice, the mental tone was uncertain, subdued.

"_Squall, it's me_," she replied eagerly. "_I need to know_—"

Suddenly he cried out, in his thoughts only, but not to her. A wordless, unvoiced scream, without cause, it first seemed, but pain was evident. "_Squall_?"

Then something struck her, like a bodily force, a darkness rushing in to drive away all perception, battering her back with the sheer velocity of its coming. Desperately she clung to her place in his mind, digging mental fingers into the substance of his self while she called to him. "_Squall_!"

He didn't, couldn't answer; she felt him slipping, struggling at the edge of a chasm. No colors in that depth, only darkness. She tried to hold on, but it was like fighting an ocean undertow. Inexorably she was dragged from him, the same void that drew him in forcing her away, until she lost all trace of his being in its current.

"_**Squall**!!!_"

She was sitting by the bed again, in her own self again. Ellone was slumped in the chair beside her, Laguna supporting her. Fighting the vertigo of transition from dreams to present reality, Rinoa lifted her head, and saw Ellone's come up with hers. Their eyes met. "I saw," the other woman whispered. "You were there, and then the link broke. He was taken from my reach."

"Taken..." It hadn't been an impersonal force, she realized. Not a random storm, but a will behind it. It felt like..."You. Ellone, it was like you, when you're bringing someone into the past. Like it felt when you sent me into him just now..." Even as she said it she realized she was wrong. A similar sensation, but not the same. Entering Ellone's visions was like falling into a dazzling hurricane, swept through time, uncountable places, people, minutes. But Squall had been pushed back from that living chaos, carried away....

"Is there anyone else who can do what you can, Ellone?" Rinoa asked.

"Not that we know of," Laguna said. "Dr. Odine never discovered anyone."

"Ellone probably is the only one who can send into the past," Rinoa said. Ultimecia would have sought out anyone else with such a talent. "But what if there's someone who can send people elsewhere?"

Ellone frowned. Laguna scratched his head. "The doc would be interested in them, definitely, but I don't know if he ever found anyone like that. If he were still in Esthar we could ask him, but he left last year."

"We should try to find out." Rinoa thought of the blackness engulfing Squall, and shivered. "If there is someone who has almost the same talent...maybe you can't reach Squall now because he's not anywhere here _or_ in the past. Maybe...maybe he's in the future."

 

* * *

"Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed," Irvine muttered.

He was speaking under his breath, but Selphie heard well enough to glare at him, and Kiros tossed him an ironic grin, a slash of white teeth in his dark face. The Esthar minister then turned back to Quistis. "Is there any sign of an offensive from Fisherman's Horizon yet?"

"No. And we've got to be in range of their radar by now."

"Probably they've known we were here all along," Xu contributed. "FH has Esthar's technologies, remember."

"Or better," Kiros nodded. "Some of Esthar's top engineers and inventors live there."

"So what are we gonna do?" Zell demanded. "An all-out assault?"

"We can't," Quistis said hastily, before Selphie could voice her opinion on that. "We don't want to hurt the people of FH. Or anyone in Galbadia Garden." Though if the Galbadian forces had successfully taken control of the other Garden as well...she prayed not. A second inter-Garden battle was not something she ever wanted to experience. "Since we don't even know if they're attacking Cid or the Garden, technically we have no conflict with the Galbadians anyway. Maybe we should try talking to them."

"The word is mightier than the sword," said Laguna as he entered the office. Rinoa was beside him, and Fujin and Raijin behind them. Esthar's president continued, "But as far as the conflict goes...I dunno, Kiros, can we afford to hire SeeD to drive out the Galbadians? FH is sort of under our protection."

Ward rumbled a query. "How's Squall?" Selphie asked anxiously, echoing his tone if not his timbre.

Rinoa gestured negatively. Her usually pale complexion was closer to pallid, but she didn't lean on Laguna's offered arm. "Ellone's with him. She couldn't reach him. She believes it's deliberate, though. Someone's doing it to him."

"You think it's the Galbadians?" Quistis inquired.

Zell cracked his knuckles. "That's a good enough conflict for me."

"We don't know—"

Zell cut Quistis off with a sweep of his hand, steel glittering on his gloved fists. "They wanted FH, right? They knew SeeD is the only force that could really fight their army. So they take down Squall to stop us."

"Maybe," Rinoa conceded. "But why'd they want FH anyway?"

"For the fishing?" Irvine suggested.

"Probably for whatever they wanted from the Shumi. There's lots of tech and magic in FH, ya know."

Fujin wasn't the only one who stared at Raijin. Rinoa found her voice first. "Do you have any idea what they were searching for?"

Raijin shrugged. "Already told ya, no clue."

"The Prez Deling himself is in charge of this. I'll bet my five best cards that whatever he wants, it's bad news," Zell growled. "I say we hit 'em now and hit 'em hard. Before they find what they're looking for."

"It might be too late for that."

Everyone looked to Nida, who had just come down the lift from the bridge. He coughed self-consciously. "Eh—I've been trying to reach you on the 'com, but it's out. A couple minutes ago there was a signal from FH."

"Another TV broadcast?"

"No. It wasn't a communication, far as I could tell. Just a signal, sent across a wide band of frequencies in every direction. It might still be transmitting, I'm not sure—the instruments are all short-circuited. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to blow out our receiver. And the radar. And the intercom too. They must've used the whole FH satellite dish to broadcast it."

"Why?" Rinoa crossed her arms. "What would they signal for with that much power?"

"That's the kind of question I don't know if we want answered," Quistis murmured.

"And that's the kind that always gets answered," Kiros replied.

 

* * *

Fisherman's Horizon was originally constructed to net a far different quarry than the gilled and scaled bounty they now drew from the sea. The giant dish the city was built around now was used mostly for solar energy collection, but at one time it had been intended to pick up signals from the stars, processing the shifts and electromagnetic waves flowing randomly through outer space for signs of a pattern. A hint of intelligence; an indication, perhaps, of the ancients who had long ago vanished from the world.

In their optimism, the designers of what later became Fisherman's Horizon built it to transmit as well as receive, so that communication would be possible as well as discovery. In the end, both hopes proved fruitless, and as its denizens became less concerned with world outside their tiny community, they gradually ceased using the dish for either purpose. It remained functional, however. No FH engineer worth their salt would let such magnificent mechanics rust, even if they were never operated.

Neither was their purpose forgotten. So when the entire dish began to vibrate, as if the metal itself were taken with some bizarre seizure, the people of FH didn't join the Galbadians' cries of "Earthquake!" Their alarm seemed of a different nature.

Ferdid wasn't blind to the difference. His radio dead, he grabbed the arm of a wide-eyed lieutenant, penetrating the man's panic with his direct command. "Get below and bring the doctor up here, if he can take himself away from this."

"This is the doctor's fault?" Dahl grasped the railing of the Mayor's staircase, his knuckles white but no evidence of fear on his face as he weathered the tremors.

And there was no hint of nerves anywhere about Jezikan. "Or is this your work?" she inquired of Cid Kramer coolly.

The SeeD headmaster had braced himself against the wall when the shaking started. Adjusting his glasses, he squinted at her thoughtfully. "I'm afraid not. Not to my knowledge, anyway."

"Of course, you don't know what's going on in your Garden," Dahl sneered. "They could be escaping, tearing this place apart to break the moorings."

"They aren't," Ferdid said. "I've gotten no reports that the Garden is doing anything, or even occupied. We haven't breached its defenses yet, but we'll force through eventually."

"If we need to," Jezikan purred. "I'm sure the headmaster here could be induced to bring us aboard."

Cid raised his eyebrows. "How?" he asked, with genuine curiosity.

As abruptly as they had begun, the tremors stopped. The soldiers breathed a collective sigh of relief, but the FH citizens still looked tense. Dahl let go of the balustrade as Ferdid tried his radio again, and received a blast of static. The President frowned, wondering if the SeeD might be responsible after all. Shutting down communications was an effective battle tactic...

He was reassured by the return of the lieutenant and his charge. Though grumbling, the doctor's annoyance at the escort didn't counter his zealous grin. When he spied Ferdid he sprang forward. "My lord President! Did you feel it?"

"Then that was your doing?"

The doctor bobbed his head like an ardent parrot. "Yes, most definitely! The vibration was no earthshake as these soldiers are saying—that we felt was the activation of the satellite dish."

"Its activation?" Jezikan stepped forward.

"The dish had to be activated to transmit the signal, madame," the doctor informed her. "We were seeking the materials for a tracer, but this is much preferable, much more efficient. I saw it at the moment I came to this place—I had forgotten the power here. We need no longer search for it. I have broadcast its homing beacon across the globe."

"You mean—" Jezikan's sapphire eyes fully opened in an expression no one would recognize, because no one had ever seen her completely surprised. "It will come here? Come to us?"

The doctor laughed delightedly. "It will come to us directly! It rises from its hidden grave now. By the time it arrives, I will have completed the control device. And then, by the mechanism of my genius, madame, my lord President," and he bowed to them, "then you will be the masters of the Lunatic Pandora."

 

* * *

The clash of their gunblades sounded throughout the Garden, had anyone been alive to hear it. They moved through the ruined corridors, fighting every step. Sometimes Squall would fall back, and other moments Seifer retreated, and then at times they moved as one, as coordinated as dancers in a ballet, directed by the silent music of their war.

Squall's wounded arm burned from his shoulder to his fingers, clamped around his weapon's grip. The cut had closed, re-opened, closed again throughout the course of battle. Now he felt another warm trickle of blood gathering in his sleeve. He wondered how much more he could afford to lose. Already the corners of his vision blinked with green-black spots. He couldn't say if he felt light-headed; his arms and legs seemed independent of his mind, blocking, dodging, attacking without conscious thought.

Seifer seemed ignorant of his own injury, though since he wielded his blade in his other hand the wound mattered less. If the blood staining his arm affected him at all, it didn't slow the fury of his strikes, or off-balance him as he twisted away from Squall's blade. They had neither been able to hit the other again, but Squall was keenly aware of how much closer Seifer's blade came with every slash. His jacket was cut to ribbons, while Seifer's white coat remained untouched, the long tails streaming behind him like wings.

The knight was better than him. Squall realized it gradually, with a kind of sick disbelief, watching the ease with which Seifer parried his strikes, while he barely defended the other's onslaughts. Seifer was not even winded, while he felt the effort to draw every panted breath, though his endurance had always been greater before. The knight didn't even deign to use magic. Squall refrained as well, because he could not; he had no guardian force junctioned, no access to the spells pooled inside him.

If they would have done any good against Seifer as it were; this new Seifer, this white-clothed killer. Not the boy he had known as a child, no longer the rival he'd fought beside and against. He swept through the shattered hallways like the death angel of the ancient legends, the scyther reaping souls of meek and mighty alike. He came for Squall now, and his face was barely recognizable. Neither haughty nor arrogant nor twisted with anger, but smooth. A painted death-mask, to be set over the ashes of a corpse.

But not yet. There were no words spoken, no words to say. Only one end was possible; Squall could think no further than the conclusion of the fight, but in this fight that span was all that existed of history. Past and future were lost, before and after meaningless. He struck now, parried now, every moment disappearing as it brought them closer to the end. _Why_ hardly meant anything anymore, until they rounded a corner and Squall nearly set his boot on the body of a fallen SeeD. With a voiceless cry he charged Seifer, forcing him back with stamina renewed by desperate rage.

It didn't carry him far enough; he faltered, and Seifer drove the advantage, his gunblade sweeping low to slice across his calf. Striking high to nearly score his opponent's face, forcing the knight away, Squall limped back, trailing scarlet on the charred floor. The cut wasn't deep, not even to the muscle, but his leg throbbed as the blood dripped down.

Hopeless, and yet not. Even as he deflected his enemy's rush, barely repelling the gunblade's blows, he felt a reckless confidence. Seifer was underestimating him as much as he had underestimated the knight. He had no magic of the ordinary variety, no spells or forces to summon. But he was not helpless, and the fight not ended.

Seifer attacked again and Squall defended by rote. His injured leg slowed him, too much. The knight's gunblade swiped across his other arm, again only shallowly, but the new pain added to the old and multiplied, magnifying the agony of every movement.

He didn't ignore it. He let it build, with the anger, the desperation, the terror of the fight. Every emotion he wouldn't allow himself to feel, every passion he avoided, in battles and in life. He opened the gates inside himself and let his spirit be flooded. And when the wave crested, his gunblade rode the surge.

_Renzokuken_.

He unleashed the power within Lionheart.

The blade moved so swiftly it became a swathe of blue flame, streaking toward Seifer, and he more carried with it than wielding the fire. Faster than the eye could follow, blow after blow rained upon his foe, each falling with the strength of a god's sword.

And the knight blocked. Impossibly, his gunblade met Lionheart's, and where Ultimecia herself had shattered, the blade held firm, swooped low to block again. When the assault ended, Seifer stood untouched. While Squall gasped for breath, the death's mask cracked into a smile.

"And that's your vengeance for all I've done. Your final stroke."

_No!_ Squall tried to say, to scream, but Seifer was in motion. The knight lunged forward, gunblade extended before him like an avenger's lance. Squall brought up Lionheart, but late, too late.

He saw Seifer's eyes, azure-hot with bloodlust and victory, and then he was thrown backward against the window, glass shattering around him.

On the cusp he nearly heard a voice, familiar, calling his name.

..._Ellone_?

Then he was falling into an infinite darkness.


	7. En Passant

After being rattled by the doctor's false earthquake, the soldiers didn't need the further calumny of witnessing dissension between their leaders. So Jezikan murmured, when the president initially refused her suggestion of contacting the Garden.

"I'm their general, not you," Ferdid rumbled irritably, but he followed his wife and Lord Dahl up the narrow staircase to the main room of the Mayor's residence. His armored bulk seemed out of place among the fanciful creations and delicate windchimes. Individually pretty items, but the overall effect was an displeasingly eclectic decor, unhelped by the large, awkward machine taking up half the room for an obscure purpose.

Dahl put his back to the contraption distastefully. Ferdid ignored it. "Speak your piece. But don't put too much effort into it; I won't agree to this 'plan,' wife."

"It's only to buy us time," Jezikan said. "We have SeeD's head. What good's a hostage we don't use?"

"Kramer isn't a hostage. He's a guest of the Galbadian state. We're delaying him now to delay the SeeD. He may be useful for getting through to the Gardens—we might even ally with them, if we convince him—"

"Stop thinking in the past. Making allies—that doesn't matter now, Ferdid," said Jezikan. "The Gardens, SeeD—they no longer mean anything to us. You don't understand the doors opening to us here. The power. Once the Lunatic Pandora comes, the SeeD will no longer be a concern. Nor the country of the Shield, nor the rabble-rousing knight. His terrorists will be dust at our feet."

"And we'll be the terrorists in their stead. No," Ferdid refused. "There's no reason. The SeeD haven't attacked yet. We'll delay them for now—with persuasion, not threats. If they do strike, we'll defend against them like warriors. We have the strength to withstand a siege, at least until the Lunatic Pandora appears." He spoke of that arrival, not with Jezikan's exulted expectation, but almost spitting it. "This may be the last true battle we'll have. The SeeD commander is no fool. He'll realize we've summoned it. It was they who re-sunk it, remember, after they defeated the Sorceress. They won't want it risen again."

"I'd almost say you agree with them, husband," Jezikan remarked, lazily.

He stared at her, amber eyes narrowed. "Maybe I do. This fool plan has taken so much effort, I've rarely taken the time to consider its worth. Perhaps I should have sooner. Without the doctor's assurances and your arguments filling my ears."

"Maybe you'd rather not fight the SeeD at all."

"I'll fight them," Ferdid snarled. "On my ground, with swords and guns, as men are supposed to. Not from a god-spelled vehicle of the ancients. We're not gods, Jezikan, no matter what aspirations you have. This power we're courting might mean Galbadia's damnation."

"President Deling gets religion," Dahl marveled. "The high priest would be proud."

Ferdid wheeled on him. "Beware, Warlock, I'm tiring of you."

"I thought you tired of me long ago. I'm positively exhausted of you."

The president for an instant seemed ready to draw his gun, but caught himself. "Muzzle him, Jezikan," he said instead, coldly. "There's no time for this. We must prepare for the SeeD. And the Pandora."

 

* * *

Balamb Garden received nothing more from Fisherman's Horizon, though they signaled on a private SeeD band on the off-chance Cid might respond. He didn't. "If it's even getting through," Nida sighed dejectedly. "I think our radio's fixed, but..."

"Maybe his is down," Selphie suggested, at the desk's com also trying to open a channel. "They were at ground zero."

"Keep trying," Quistis ordered tersely. Zell and Rinoa had retreated to a corner of the office and were discussing something in low voices, with lots of emphatic gesturing on Zell's part. The problem was that Rinoa looked like she wasn't restraining so much as inciting him. Recalling a certain highly elaborate plan to kidnap Vinzer Deling, and a daring attempt to bell the cat—or rather bangle the Sorceress Edea—Quistis felt a headache coming on. She wondered if Kiros had any aspirin on him.

How did Squall manage this whole leadership deal?

She didn't even want to think about what the Galbadians could be doing, though that should be at the top of her priorities. It might be worth trying to contact Seifer again, though even if she could get through she doubted he'd appreciate the interruption. Whatever he was up to. Conquering Deling City from the inside. Weren't knights supposed to be above treachery? Or was that only legend, too?

The lift outside the office hissed open, and a SeeD cadet entered. Quistis vaguely recognized her—one of the medical assistants? She saluted gingerly before speaking. "Dr. Kodowaki asked me to come up, since the intercom wasn't working. She said to tell you not to worry, but something's come up with Squall—"

Rinoa and Laguna, both usually the politest of people, made no apologies for nearly knocking down the cadet as they exited, and were in the lift before she finished her report. Quistis missed the rest of it herself, rushing into the hall to wait for the lift's return. It took far too long. Maybe it had been damaged as well. Finally it returned and she crammed in with the others, plus Kiros, and Ward, who filled almost half of it by himself.

When they reached the infirmary, Rinoa and Laguna were before the closed door to Squall's room. Ellone stood between them, looking as if she were trying not to cry. One hand was held to her forehead in a gesture so familiar Quistis wondered if she had picked it up from Squall, or Squall from her. "I was trying to touch him," she murmured, clearly not meaning physical contact. "I've never been able, not like that, but I was trying. For a moment I thought I had—I heard him. I swear I heard him. Then..."

"Then, what?" Zell demanded, harsh in his agitation. "What happened?"

"Hey, lay off," Irvine protested, stepping between them. "It wasn't Sis's fault, none of this—"

"He just wanted—" Quistis began.

"Dr. Kodowaki said not to worry." Rinoa's soft words silenced all of them.

The pause was broken by the door opening. Dr. Kodowaki looked them over wearily. "You can go in if you want," she said. "But not all at once. And don't touch anything."

"What is it?"

The doctor's face softened as she turned to Rinoa. "I put him on life support. He stopped breathing for a moment there. I don't think his heart quit, but it came close." She laid a gentle hand on Ellone's arm. "It wasn't you, either, girl. I'm not clear what it was, any more than I understand what brought this on to begin with, but you couldn't have made it worse. It might be a delayed reaction to the original stress, or a result of the coma. All I know is his brain activity decreased dramatically, and his body started shutting down." She wiped her hand over her face. "And damn, I don't mean to sound so cold. But that's all I have."

"Can I go in?"

At Dr. Kodowaki's approving nod, Rinoa slipped through the door. Laguna cocked his head inquiringly, received confirmation and put his arm around Ellone's shoulders, walking her inside.

A loud rattle made the rest of them jump. Zell had slammed both fists into the doctor's desk, denting the polished metal. Before anyone could speak, he twisted on his heel and tore out of the office.

Quistis caught up with him in the corridor outside the infirmary. Trembling, he jammed his balled fists against the wall, his head lowered between his outstretched arms. "We gotta go to FH," he said, his tenor dropped to a low growl. "Those Galbadian bastards are doing this, and if we don't stop 'em he's gonna—"

"We'll stop them," Quistis said, inwardly marveling at her own certainty.

He flung out his arm before she could touch his shoulder in comfort, shoving himself away from the wall. "_Now_, we gotta—"

"And do what?" Irvine snapped from behind them. "Ask 'em to stop buggin' our commander? Force a fight and blow up half of FH while we're at it? What if they're not behind this, what the hell do we do then?"

"We need a plan," Quistis said.

"Yeah," Selphie agreed. "And we need one now." She walked forward, for once with no bounce in her step. "I wanna get them too, Zell. But until we figure out what's going on, we can't help Squall."

"Or FH," Irvine added. "Or Cid, if he's in trouble."

"We need your help, Zell," Quistis said. "To help them."

Zell raked both hands through his short-spiked hair. "Okay. Okay. I'll keep my cool."

"Good," Quistis said, knowing he meant it. Though privately she wondered how long he could possibly keep it for.

But then, privately, she was amazed she was keeping it herself...

"Quistis!" Xu, hurrying down the corridor, halted when she saw their impromptu gathering. "Squall—I take it he didn't wake up?" She didn't wait for the obvious answer. "Then you're needed upstairs—we just got contacted by FH."

 

* * *

Quistis made it to the office first, sliding behind the desk as Xu put the channel through. She hoped to see Cid on the com screen. President Deling appeared instead. "We apologize for not contacting you sooner," he said gruffly. "We've had communication difficulties."

"Relating to that powerful signal earlier?" Quistis demanded outright. "What was that about?"

"We don't know. It might have been caused by a resister in FH. Not everyone approves of our new alliance."

He was lying, and he did it so well Quistis would have been convinced, had she had less experience with politicians. She schooled her face into a trusting look. "The alliance is your business, but we also have business with FH. One of our Gardens is there."

"Yes," the president agreed. "The engineers here are still working on it, I believe. When they're finished, you can of course retrieve it."

There was the barest hesitation before he said 'when'. As if he were expecting an event between now and then, and she doubted it was Galbadia Garden's renovations being completed. Again, she didn't address it. And she didn't dare mention Cid, on the off-chance they hadn't found him. "Thank you," was all she said. "Sorry to interrupt your negotiations; I know you were secluding yourself to hammer out a reasonable accord with FH's Mayor."

She was perhaps a bit too heavy on the sarcasm; Deling's heavy brow lowered, but he forced some joviality into his reply. "I'd never want to disrupt our good relations with SeeD." He frowned slightly. "Though, if I may ask, where is your commander?"

Quistis felt her face freeze. "He's...indisposed at the moment," she managed.

Something crossed Ferdid's own expression. Not satisfaction. But he didn't look entirely surprised, either. "I see," he said. "If that's all, I wish you good journeys."

"Good luck in your negotiations," Quistis said lamely, and cut the connection.

"Liar!" Selphie cried the moment they were off the air.

"Let's hope so," Irvine said, a surprisingly precise echo of Quistis's own thoughts.

"Zell, get Rinoa," she requested. "This is important. If we don't do something soon, it could to be too late." For what—for who—she didn't say, nor needed to.

 

* * *

Once he broke the communication with the Garden, Ferdid found a pretense to order the two soldiers present away. Then he grabbed Dahl by the jacket and shook the lord like a dog. "The SeeD commander," he snarled. "Prey to your warlock tricks?!"

Dahl tore away, tossing his head back haughtily. "The SeeD are our only major threat. Less so now."

"You're no man," Ferdid seethed. "You're a witch. Take the curse off him."

"You're the one who demanded I fell the Sorceress," the lord reminded.

"The Sorceress. Not Commander Squall. Magic to fight mages; weapons to fight warriors. Remove your spell!"

"Your honor system was obsolete before my grandfather's birth," Dahl hissed. "And Squall wields a gunblade. The Sorceress's Knights are subject to the same rules as the Sorceress. Besides, it's already too late for him."

Ferdid glared at him, yellow eyes blazing, then whirled and stabbed at the com's keypad.

"What are you doing?" Jezikan had been observing from the corner, aloof as a dragon watching a cat and mouse that had strayed into its cave. Now she glided forward to place one hand over her husband's.

He shoved her back, roughly. "I'm contacting the Garden again. They can have the warlock. That should buy us the time we need, lady wife, while we wait for the Pandora." Ferdid laughed, a strangled, harsh sound. "Perhaps I'll tell them about that as well. Begin the battle now."

"No," Jezikan said firmly, taking his arm to pull him away from the com. "You won't."

"I'm your husband, not your child!" Ferdid tried to shake her off. When she clung, he backhanded her, his hand cracking against her cheek like a gunshot.

She staggered, but didn't fall. Releasing his sleeve, she drew herself straight, gold glittering in her auburn hair. Her hands remained at her side, not rising to slap him or touch her reddened cheek.

Dahl moved toward her, stopped when the larger man swiveled toward him. "Not even man enough to protect your lover," Ferdid spat. "By the Brothers, what company I've fallen to. I should give the SeeD your body. But they might want you alive, for their commander's sake." He touched the pistol holstered at his side. "Leave. But don't go far. They'll find you even if I can't."

"No," Dahl said, flatly.

Ferdid's fists were shaking. "Get out," he growled. "Both of you."

Dahl looked to Jezikan, tilting his head in a serene inquisition. Just as calmly, she nodded. A spark lit in the lord's eyes, black fire, and he turned back toward Ferdid. At the concentration writ on the warlock's aesthetic brow, the president grabbed for his gun.

He never reached it. His square fingers twitched spasmodically as his amber eyes widened in paralyzing terror. Slowly, almost gracefully, he crumpled to his knees, then with a choked gasp pitched onto his side. Jezikan watched intently, her lips pulled tight over her teeth. Even when aware of its cause, the fear contorting Ferdid's face was horrifying to behold. His head was twisted toward the ceiling and his eyes squeezed shut as he panted, rapidly and raggedly, as if there were too little oxygen in the air, struggling to draw breaths like a beached fish.

Three gasps, four, and then they stopped. A trail of scarlet-tinged spittle wound down his cheek from his open mouth.

Dahl leaned against the bank of computers, his white shirt looking dingy below his transparent face. For a long moment he gazed down at the fallen man. When he lifted his eyes, they were darker than the space between stars.

Jezikan gathered her skirts to crouch beside her husband and pressed two slim fingers to his throat. Standing again, she absently shook her hand, as if flicking off water. "Ferdid," she murmured. "He was never ambitious. Not as we are." She spared a glance at Dahl. "Will you be all right?"

"In a minute," he said, a bit unsteadily. "I knew him...well. It was...simple enough..."

She waited until he had caught his breath enough to stand upright. His wan aspect could be attributed to the situation. She felt nothing herself, except a faint pain in her cheek where Ferdid had hit her. It didn't feel sore enough to bruise; her porcelain skin was tougher than it appeared. She pinched her other cheek to induce a flush, then yanked her fingers through her hair to disarray the charms. With a final confirming glance at Dahl, she opened her mouth and screamed.

"Help!" the lord shouted over her cry. "Find a doctor!"

By the time the medics arrived, tears had marred her perfect complexion, and she was valiantly fighting back more as she knelt by Ferdid's body, her dress heedlessly tangled around her legs. Dahl stooped beside her, trying desperately to revive her husband; the lord had to be forcibly pulled away by one of the medics. The others bent over the president, working urgently while soldiers gathered in the doorway, their ready arms useless protection against the death which had already come and conquered.

It was only after the medics had confirmed this and soldiers, in stunned silence, had borne away his body that the Lady Jezikan pulled herself together. To the troops arranged around her in a sympathetic honor guard, she said, "The Brothers wouldn't have capriciously stolen such a strong man's life. My husband was in communication with Balamb Garden moments before he fell. Are not the SeeD are allied with the Edea, the Sorceress who murdered his uncle? Isn't the man we have here, their headmaster, that very Edea's husband? Could this be only a coincidence?"

"No," the soldiers answered. Still in shock, confused, they gratefully listened to the strongest voice of authority present.

"Bring Cid Kramer," Jezikan commanded. "And contact Balamb Garden again. If they had any part in this, they will be punished."

 

* * *

To say things were not going well would be an understatement so vast as to dwarf the moon. Nothing had prepared her for the past forty-eight hours; this latest development just capped it. Rinoa observed Quistis massaging her temples with no little sympathy. Her own head was pounding, but she ignored it. The throbbing had reached the point that nothing alleviated it as it were. "Can you play the recording again, please?" she asked.

Jezikan Deling's beautiful face flashed onscreen. The Lady Deling, not her husband. Where the President was she did not address. Nor did she offer any opportunity to ask.

"Balamb Garden," the lady proclaimed. "You will come no closer to Fisherman's Horizon. SeeD will make no attempt to enter this city, individually or in groups. Do not attack any of our vessels, coming or leaving FH.

"If you ignore these rules, we will be forced to take action. Supposedly you fight for just causes and the rights of people. The citizens of Fisherman's Horizon are under our power. We've established this control without bloodshed thus far. But if you make any move, or if we detect any of your people boarding, we will kill one person for each of your transgressions."

Jezikan smiled then. As uncomfortable as the expression looked on her husband's face, his smirk had been nothing compared to the cruelty in hers. "We are serious. This man will be the first to die."

She drew him into view. Cid Kramer, of course, looking mildly disturbed and more cross. Though they had all guessed it, the SeeD couldn't help but react, Rinoa no less than the others. Jezikan hadn't missed this. "We are serious," she repeated. "Do not test us." That was all. The last image they saw was Cid, who faced the camera squarely, shaking his head as if signaling them to ignore him.

Which was one option definitely out of the question. How much they could risk was less agreed. "We could sneak one vessel in underwater," Irvine insisted. "They can't be guarding every portal. Cloaking could hide a small ship, enough for a couple of us—"

"And what if you're caught?" Quistis demanded wearily. "What if you're recognized? Hell, what if you're just scanned—they're bound to have a magus or two. The one we met in Deling City was powerful enough to have a stock of scan spells. That would be enough to tell them you're SeeD."

"There's ways around that—"

"Yeah, but they take time," Selphie said. "You'd have to block fighting skills and everything—and no guardian forces; they'd be a dead giveaway. We'll have to go in without any magic—"

"No, you won't," Rinoa said. "I won't, I mean." She looked around at all of them. Selphie and Irvine matching one another in earnest intensity; Quistis fraying but still strong. Zell sat with his arms folded across his chest and one leg bouncing impatiently. Kiros and Ward were observing their discussion without comment; Laguna was still with Ellone and Squall. Where she would rather be herself, even if it did no good. She drew a breath. "I'm not SeeD. Technically I'm not forbidden to board FH. I should be able to block scans without much trouble. And I won't need a guardian force to cast magic."

"You might be recognized," Quistis protested. "By the soldiers, the President—"

"You'd all be recognized by him too, probably," Rinoa replied. "The soldiers won't know me. Even if some of them saw me with my dad, that would've been years ago. I'll dress like a Fisherman's Horizon girl and they won't know the difference." She met each of their eyes in turn, steadily. "Guys, you know this is the best way. For Cid, for FH, for Squall. Get the ship ready, and I'll go."

She knew there was a time, not so long ago, that she would have waited with bated breath for permission to undertake such a dangerous mission, would have craved the excitement almost as much as the honor of responsibility. A chance to prove herself, prove her devotion to the cause.

No need for proof now. Her friends understood it already, and she knew it herself, so deeply it truly did hurt. When the others agreed to her plan, it was not with triumph or vindication that she accepted the duty, but plain relief.

But the ever-present touch of fear that she had gone too far, promised something beyond her scope—that was still with her. Sometimes Rinoa wondered if she'd ever lose that last bit of self-doubt. And would she know herself if she did?

 

* * *

"What's wrong?" Dahl was on edge, both drained and stimulated by the first death he had purposely induced. He prowled the confines of the mayor's residence, finally finding a target for his agitation in Cid Kramer's unnatural calm. "Aren't you supposed to be cursing us? Insisting we'll never get away with this?"

Cid blinked at him, refocusing, as if his thoughts had been chasing monsters on the moon. "You won't," he said, matter-of-factly. "Why should I say it?"

"You don't know anything," the lord baited. "They'll be the ones to fail. Once we have the Lunatic Pandora, we'll grind all your SeeD to flour. If they come to save you, we'll kill them. Then you, to honor our accord. And who next? The mayor? Perhaps his bitch of a wife. Or maybe a child would—"

A soldier entered and Dahl immediately fell silent. The man saluted Jezikan respectfully, the lord less so. "It's true what you told us, my lady," he reported. "We've had no success contacting anyone in Deling City. Is it really a rebellion?"

"It is," she confirmed grimly.

"That bastard knight," the commander growled with feeling, then pulled himself straight. "My apologies, my lady, I meant no offense—"

"None taken, Commander." Jezikan waved one hand with an artful mix of exhaustion and elegance. "We can hardly be expected to watch our tongues, with so much else weighing on us. And Almasy deserves your title. But we'll stop him yet. My husband..." she faltered, bravely forged ahead, "My husband wouldn't have stood for this, and nor shall we. We fight in Ferdid's name."

"In the President's name," the soldier agreed respectfully, saluting again before departing.

Dahl turned to Cid once he was gone. "Is the Knight your man, too? The Sorceress was your wife—who is Seifer to you? Your son?"

Cid's eyebrows shot up at that. The lord would have pushed further, had not Jezikan snapped, "Dahl! We have greater concerns than Kramer or the knight. The doctor—"

Dahl reared back as if he had been slapped. "He knows...He'll guess how Ferdid—he must have already! Shiva's crystals, how could we—"

"Whether he puts it together isn't a concern," Jezikan told him irritably. "He won't care. Ferdid meant nothing to him except as a means to an end. He'll work for us alone as readily. It's only important now that his work does succeed."

"Indeed," Dahl agreed. The Lunatic Pandora out of control was a nightmare even the warlock was chary of contemplating. "And how do we assure this?"

"We wait," Jezikan said. Because there was nothing else to be done. This was the only thing that bothered her, the inability to direct this one stage of her plan. The helplessness gnawed at her nerves.

And justifiably; it concerned him as well. Still, Dahl felt some small satisfaction, seeing even her calm was not entirely immune to fear.

 

* * *

They gave her a few moments of privacy. Rinoa didn't have anything to say, didn't know if Squall even could hear her, wherever he was. Far, and getting farther with every breath the respirator pumped into his lungs. Its quiet hiss was the only sound in the tiny room; she couldn't ignore it.

In the end she only promised to return. A trite goodbye. His hand when she took it was cold; they had covered him with a thick blanket in the warm room, but the heat didn't penetrate his freezing fingers, bare of his customary gloves.

His brow was smooth, relaxing when he had dropped deeper into the coma. At least he had lost that tight look of pain. In the abnormal repose his face was beautiful, so young, untouched by its habitual shadows. She leaned over him, her hair falling against his cheeks.

"Try it," urged a voice in the doorway. When she whirled around, Irvine grinned at her, subdued but unashamed as always. "You know that nursery story?" he said. "The one about the princess cursed by a sorceress to fall asleep, until her prince comes and kisses her awake. They say there's truth in the old tales..."

"And I'm going to test this theory in front of you?" Rinoa archly inquired.

"Hey, it's nothing I haven't seen before." He pushed his hat back with one finger, cockily.

Rinoa eyed him askance. "You were watching us that night, on the balcony."

"We all were. If the battery hadn't run out we'd have it on video."

She had known, actually. Even at the time she'd been aware of them, on the periphery, all quiet and all approving. Her first real friends...she hadn't minded at the time; she didn't now. And Squall hadn't either, though he must have known they were there. SeeD's best fighter was always aware of his surroundings, and they hadn't been that quiet. And yet he'd still taken her hand, drawn her in, and they'd both forgotten everything around them in the kiss.

Just the memory made her blush slightly, and Irvine's sharp gaze didn't help any. Uncharacteristically, he didn't comment, only reported, "The vessel's prepared. Selphie's got the FH clothes in the other room. Whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready now." But she stood still for a moment, as if waiting, listening to the respirator's rhythm.

"We'll take care of him," Irvine said quietly. "Dr. Kodowaki's the best. And Squall's not going to walk out on a great girl like you. Even he's not that big an idiot."

Her ghost of a chuckle was almost a sigh. Irvine touched her shoulder lightly. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." No hesitation in that.

"Thought so." He paused, considering before he spoke. "You know, my parents are Deusatva. My foster parents, I mean."

"No...I didn't know that sect was still active."

"Well, it's not something they spread around. Not in Galbadia. But they had an altar hidden under the stairs, and they taught me all about it." He grinned slightly. "They'd be totally scandalized if they knew how we use Shiva now."

"Irvine—"

"Wait. I have a point. Do you know much about Deusatva beliefs? Not the rumors about cannibalism and blood drinking. The real stuff. They believe everyone, everything alive, has a soul. And that soul can be reborn, over and over again, traveling along the wheel of Fate, until it earns salvation to leave. We're all on that wheel, each in our own tread, spinning around, each at our own pace." He orbited his hands around one another. "But sometimes, once in a while, souls will meet. People—not human beings, but what's inside us. They connect, and then they turn with each other."

He looked down at Squall. "I guess I'm not really religious. But I was thinkin' a while back, the way I know Selphie, maybe it's not all made up. And if it is true, you and Squall, you've gone around a lot of times together."

Rinoa was a long time in responding. "So we're having trouble earning salvation?" she finally inquired.

Irvine grinned. "Who needs it—this merry-go-round has more ups and downs than a rollercoaster, but I'm not looking to cash in my tickets!" He paused. "Uh, if you ever meet my folks, promise not to tell them I said so."

She actually laughed—which had probably been Irvine's goal all along. He stepped outside again, to check something with Selphie, ostensibly, but it gave her enough time to bend down and press her lips to Squall's forehead, whispering, "See you soon."

She said her farewells to Irvine and Selphie in the infirmary after she changed, and to Quistis and Zell on the walk to the garage, before they left to verify everything on the bridge. Laguna, Kiros and Ward were waiting for her in the garage, beside the small vessel. "I've put the access codes and stuff into the ship computer," Laguna said. "They'll allow you to dock at any underwater port in FH."

"Then I'll just sneak on and pretend I belong there." Rinoa glanced down at herself. "Think I look the part?" She struck a model's pose. The outfit Selphie had selected, blue overalls over a beige plaid shirt, felt bulky and unfamiliar, if not uncomfortable, and her braided hair was an awkward weight tugging at her scalp. "I just need one of those knit hats."

"You'll pass without it," Kiros said, and Ward nodded mute agreement. "Doubt I'd recognize you in that get-up."

"Just as long as the soldiers don't, either."

The Esthar minister nodded. "What'd Quistis mean, saying they might?"

Rinoa shrugged. "I might have met some of them in Deling City, a while ago. My father's General Caraway."

Laguna looked at Rinoa sharply. He had been studying her costume critically, but now his eyes went to her face, and seemed to see it in a new light, finding something there he had never noticed before. "Who's your mom?" he asked, not quite casually.

"Julia Heartilly. She was a singer, before she met Dad—my father, and had me."

There was a momentary brightness in Laguna's eyes, but all he said was, "Oh."

Ward nudged Kiros and rumbled something indecipherable. Kiros's mouth quirked up as he whispered back, "It does seem that way...of course he's also Raine's son, that does give him the advantage..."

"What?"

"Ignore them," Laguna told her hastily. "I actually saw your mother play, a couple times. Before she met your dad. She—she must have been proud of you."

"Yeah. I guess." Rinoa put her hands on the rim of the ship's portal, triggering the hatch to iris open. "Well, this is it."

"Rinoa." Laguna cleared his throat softly. "I'm maybe not the best one to say it—but be careful."

She nodded, then spun and gave him a quick hug. After a moment of surprise, he returned it.

Kiros and Ward waved as she entered the ship, Kiros wishing her luck. Right before the hatch closed behind her, she heard Laguna's farewell. "Thank you..."

Alone in the silent vessel, she seated herself in the cramped cockpit and activated the main engine's first stage. More displays lit around her like holiday sparklers as the motor hummed, a low bass vibration. She opened a channel to the bridge. "I'm ready."

"We'll set you down now," Xu said. "Good luck."

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?"

She heard Xu's smile in her response, then concentrated on the controls as the ship jerked into motion, carried on the tracks to the exit. The creaking of stressed metal signaled the garage doors grinding open, and then her vessel slid neatly from the Garden into the vast ocean.

She let the ship sink while she moved away from the Garden, the churning wake calming as she descended deeper. When she started the propeller, the water outside the small front portal was a deep blue, frothing into bubbles as the vessel pushed forward. Ahead and below she could see the ocean dropping into blackness, as infinite and deep as space.

Not the most comforting association. Rinoa purposely cast her eyes upward, to the sun reflecting on the underside of the waves, a shimmering, shifting barrier of light and air. She steered the vessel in a wide arc away from Fisherman's Horizon and Balamb Garden, so her origin wouldn't be clear if she was spotted through the water and cloaking. The engine's purr and the propeller's chopping were muted by the magic stone melded into the ship's hull; the radio was silent.

When she judged herself distant enough, she set her course back toward FH. As the city loomed nearer through the blue water, she tensed, expecting any moment to hear a demand for identification over the com, or see the glint of a missile rushing toward her. But there was nothing. Unheard, unseen, she slipped under the Galbadian ships patrolling the surface and dove for the submarine docks of Fisherman's Horizon.

 

* * *

At the first opportunity, Fujin and Raijin discreetly retired from the bridge to the quarters Squall had assigned them, before this whole mess blew up. Not their old rooms; those had been given to the SeeD from the other Gardens. The double was nowhere near as spacious as the single dorms they had occupied when on the Disciplinary Committee, but there was little room for guests in the Garden now. And they were both well aware of their low standing here.

Still, though the SeeD showed them none of the respect the Galbadian soldiers did, it felt good to be back, if only visiting. Familiar. Even if Seifer wasn't here, there was a sense of rightness, a re-establishment of the old, comfortable patterns. Though with her one eye Fujin clearly saw this was only a facade, and one crumbling fast. As it had a year ago, when the Sorceress had come and everything had fallen apart. Seifer himself had stumbled.

But he had rediscovered a path, a different road to his dream, and he walked it straight now, his head held high and depending on them to keep him from tripping, as he always did. He needed them, and Fujin would never deny him. Nor Raijin. There were too few real warriors and too few true dreamers in the world, and if many were blind to Seifer's value, it had always been clear to her. The first time she saw him, a boy three years younger than her, his gunblade almost as tall as himself—she had realized then his greatness. It was that understanding which inspired her to rebel against the mage she had called master, the human wolf who savaged his slave girl to prove his power. The fight had lost her an eye, but won her freedom. A worthy trade. When years later the man came for her again, Seifer stood before her. She would always be free now.

And always bound, in willing shackles, to the only one she loved.

With swift dexterity she entered the proper codes into the com, masking their transmission from the rest of the Garden and encrypting the signal. They waited in silence for the response they had failed to get twice before.

This time there was success. Raijin smiled broadly as Seifer appeared, rubbing one eye tiredly. His chin was flecked with gold stubble and his short hair mussed.

"APOLOGIES," Fujin said.

"Didn't mean ta wake ya," Raijin added. "We've been trying to get through for a while—"

"Forget it." Seifer gestured curtly. "You couldn't wake me. Haven't slept yet."

"How's it goin'?"

"Fine. We got the council hall totally surrounded. The ministers are holed up like rats." His smile had more than a touch of the feral. "We'll be flushing them out tomorrow, if they don't come willingly. A couple are on our side, and more will come over, soon as they get it through their thick heads we're gonna win. The whole city's together in this. Everyone's behind us." The triumph on his face faded, exhaustion returning to the fore. "This Fisherman's Horizon takeover was the last straw. Don't know what Ferdid was thinking, announcing it like that. Half the people got scared witless thinking Esthar's gonna retaliate, and the rest of 'em are fed up with missions abroad while the politicians ignore what happens here. Bad time for His Honor the president to skip town."

"That's where we are now, ya know," Raijin remarked.

Seifer narrowed puffy eyes. "Explain."

Raijin proceeded to do so, haphazardly but thoroughly describing what had occurred at the Shumi Village, Squall's collapse, and the signal from Fisherman's Horizon. Fujin kept her comrade on track with a few choice words. Seifer listened in silence, though his expression darkened steadily. When he heard of Jezikan's announcement and Rinoa's departure, he dropped his head in his hands, saying nothing after Raijin finished.

"Seifer?" Fujin queried softly.

His head came up, and he pushed one hand through his tangled hair, which only threw it into further disarray. "Rinoa went?"

"She was the only choice. 'Cause she's not SeeD, and is the Sorceress and all, ya know."

Seifer's eyes were bloodshot, dark lashes combining with shadows to make them look as if they were ringed in ink. "Yeah, I get it. Not many alternatives. If Jez's really got Cid... And Squall. Dammit. I didn't think..." He squeezed the bridge of his nose, fingers on either side of the scar. "Okay. You guys keep watching close, and help out. If anything new comes up, let me know. And try to protect Rinoa, any way you can. Cid, too, if there's a chance. Squall..." He shook his head grimly. "You can tell Quisty I don't know, even if she won't believe it. But Jezikan's gotta be behind it. If you have a chance to get to her—you find out, got it? Whatever it takes."

They told him they understood. He regarded them wearily for a long moment, then shook himself into action. "Be careful," he said, and the screen went gray.

"He looks real tired," Raijin observed.

"BUSY."

"Yeah, but I hope he can rest a little. It's not healthy, ya know?"

Fujin nodded in emphatic agreement. But they had an assignment, of which futile concern for Seifer was not a principle part. With a sharp gesture to Raijin, she strode out of the quarters and headed back to the bridge to find word of Rinoa's progress.

 

* * *

Rinoa was well into the lowest levels of Fisherman Horizon before she met any soldiers. The bottom of the city was a labyrinth of narrow passageways, low ceilings crossed in every direction with pipes varying from barely the diameter of her finger to larger than tree trunks. Portals swung open at the pull of a lever and clanged shut behind her. Few accesses were barred, but navigating the maze would have been difficult even with a map, and she had none. Down some passages she found more submarine ports like the one she had docked her vessel, some with ships beyond the airlocks, others leading only to pure blue depths.

Here underwater, in the bowels of the city, there was no sign anything was wrong. The low, pervasive hum of machinery never wavered, and the white lights shone steadily. Water shimmered on the pipes and droplets wound down the walls, but nothing was rusted. Her boots clanked on the metal grid floor. Squinting through the lattice she could see equipment working, pistons pumping and ventilators blowing. The planet itself might fall out of orbit, but the gears of Fisherman's Horizon would keep turning.

"Who goes there!" The shout from behind reminded her that this stability, like most, was only illusion.

She played it cool, casually turning to the pair of soldiers rushing up to her. "Yeah?"

The Galbadians looked her up and down. "What are you doing down here, girl?" one asked gruffly.

"Work." She balanced insolence with resentful courtesy in the monosyllable.

"What kind of work?" the other man queried suspiciously.

"Checking meters. Have to make sure the machines stay running."

"Now that'd be a real tragedy, all these fancy gadgets quitting." The soldiers shared a derisive guffaw. "You'd pro'ly throw yourself into the sea if that happened, wouldn't ya, girl?"

"Get out of here," said the other. "Work later. Take a vacation. The Lady Jezikan's orders, no one's allowed down here."

"Lady Jezikan?" Rinoa blurted before she could stop herself. "What about the president?"

Both soldiers stiffened. "Get," the first man snarled, all taunting humor gone from his tone. "Don't show your scrawny ass down here again."

_Interesting_. She tramped swiftly away, hoping she looked as if she were heading for a ladder. Once through the closest portal, she pressed her ear to the wall. She could just barely make out the soldiers' words, echoing through the hollow steel. "Why're we on patrol," the first man was complaining. "It's not like these flakes are gonna try nothin'. They're too nice and peaceful."

"The Lady don't want anything disturbing the doc's work," his comrade replied. "That's why we're here. He's doing what Ferdid brought him here to do."

"Show respect. President-General Deling. We obey Jezikan, but his spirit still leads us."

"May he find peace," the other soldier mumbled the traditional chant for the dead.

Rinoa pushed back from the wall, eyes wide. Now that, she hadn't expected to hear. She was tempted to find her way back to her vessel and report the president's untimely demise... Not yet. Wait until she had more information about those circumstances. She had learned more. There was something down here. Someone with important work.

She maneuvered the corridors with more caution now, listening carefully, avoiding any footsteps she heard marching over the metal grate and placing her own steps carefully to muffle the rattles. She systematically covered the level until she came across two stationary guards before a large portal near the city's center. After a moment's debate, she cast a sleep spell.

The magic caught them unawares. Immediately they crashed to the floor. Rinoa held her breath at the clatter of armor against metal, but no one came. Both men were deeply under, and would be for hours if nothing disturbed them; the spell had far more punch than it would have from anyone else's casting. She quelled the sensation of power, like electricity tickling her veins. Stepping over their snoring forms, she opened the portal.

The room was large yet cramped, ringing an enormous pillar and filled with a tangle of wires and pipes. Control consoles randomly dotted the walls, and the floor was scattered with indecipherable parts and pieces of equipment. Seated on a tall stool before a wide, round table, a single man worked feverishly.

She recognized him, even in plain Galbadian clothes. Before he could look up from his table, Rinoa exclaimed aloud, "Doc Odine?" She was at his side in an instant. "What are you doing here? You're working for the Galbadians?"

His hand slid across the table, toward the radio lying among the other indecipherable devices. She pinned his skinny wrist with ease and glared at him, reaching for the dagger under her shirt. Her shooting star would have been too difficult to conceal, but the knife was sharp. "You were there, weren't you. After they kidnapped me, when I was held in Deling City. I remember hearing your voice."

He squirmed. "Sorceress, I meant no harm! It was for science, only for science." She drew the dagger and his accented baritone raised an octave. "You cannot! I am unarmed! Helpless! Vengeance is a useless—"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Rinoa said. "You're going to come back with me to the Garden. We have questions, about what you're doing here, and about Squall—"

"Squall? What has happened to your commander?"

She told him, shortly, about Squall's collapse and Ellone's comments. He listened intently. "I see, I see. Quite obvious—"

"You know what's wrong with him?"

The doctor's face scrunched up thoughtfully. "Hm, mm, I do, I might. You would care to know?" He smiled at her, clapping his hands together. "Well! Well. You do not pick on Dr. Odine so much now, eh? Knowledge is important, the most important. These foolish Galbadians, they do not understand so well—"

Rinoa took his arm. "Tell me, now—"

He detached himself, a crafty look crossing his fleshy features. "You would like to hear what I know, yes? I ask a price. Assist me later. Agree to help, and I tell what I know."

She didn't hesitate. "Fine. I'll help you. If you help me now."

"Excellent, excellent!" He turned back to his table and reached for his devices once more. When she opened her mouth he raised a cautionary finger. "I have work still to complete. Listen now and I will talk as I assemble. What happened to your commander, so it sounds like, is the same as killed the lord president Ferdid—"

"So he is dead."

The doctor's head bobbed. "Quite, I am certain. My lady Jezikan would not make a mistake in that, no. He is dead. But Squall is alive?"

"Yes," she whispered. If barely...

"He is strong. Most strong. What killed him—or who, rather I should say—"

"Then it is someone like Ellone."

"Ellone. Ah yes, Ellone, my dear Ellone..." Dr. Odine's fingers paused in their busy manipulations, then resumed as he continued speaking. "They took her from Odine; they sent her away. I could no longer study her. But I had to know more. Her ability, so unique...I searched. Dozens I scanned, seeking another like her, with that power, with that potential. Such a mystery to pry apart. I needed to find another. Hundreds I tested.

"Then I found the boy...it was not the same, the pattern in his brain. But close, yes, the potential was there, unrealized. I needed to realize it. I brought him to my laboratory—"

"At his choice?"

"His choice? Bah. He was only a boy. Twelve years old. Too young to choose anything. His parents bade him go. They wanted him to learn from a genius such as Odine. And they were well-compensated, enough to stay silent. After the revolution settled, they all left me alone in my laboratory. To work with him.

"It took many trials, many different attempts, so many machines and medicines—but at last I managed to achieve it. Cleared the channels in his brain and released the gift. The power. So I thought. But it wasn't the same, not nearly. He could not do what Ellone could do. For much time I thought it was useless, this ability in him. But he kept learning, kept attempting to exercise it. Always pushing, reaching. Finally he made the breakthrough. Two of my assistants died, before I fully understood what he was. Before he understood enough to control it. And once he did—he had no interest in me. No interest in the work, the science. He did not care. After all I had done, all I had given him, he left. He abandoned the work."

"And went to the Galbadians," Rinoa said. "What does he do, exactly? You said it wasn't Ellone's ability—then what is it? Can he send to the future?"

"The future?" The doctor blinked. "Oh my, what a power that would be. If it were possible, if the universe is in truth so fixed...but no. He reaches into the minds of those he knows, but he does not send them to others as Ellone does. He cannot connect to elsewhere or elsewhen as she can. It is different than that.

"What does he do? He opens doors. The places inside where we will not tread ourselves; the dark places, the hidden places. For so long he worked to discover those places, until he learned how to find the way, in anyone. He knows where to locate that key, how to turn it. He opens the door you would keep locked, pushes you inside, shuts it behind you and traps you within. Then he waits for your demons to come. If he knows you well enough, he can lead them there. Otherwise he only waits. Until you have learned what he wishes you to learn. Or until it is ended."

"You wake up?" Rinoa ventured, knowing it wasn't so. Dr. Odine only shook his head, concentrating intently on the device in his hands. "But he can...open that door again? The one who does this—who's the man with this power? Where is he?"

Dr. Odine held up the object, so the ceiling lamp refracting through the faceted lenses threw miniature rainbows across the room. "He calls himself now Lord Dahl," he said. "He is here at Fisherman's Horizon."

He yelped as Rinoa nearly bowled over another of his mechanisms to snatch the radio. A single look made his mouth close so quickly his teeth clicked; then she switched the communicator on and selected the right frequency. "Balamb Garden, come in. This is Rinoa, and we've got work to do."

 

* * *

Selphie and Irvine left Laguna with Squall and shot to the lift as soon as Quistis summoned them. "What's the good news?" Irvine asked breathlessly as they entered the office.

"We've got word from Rinoa. She made it fine—and she found Dr. Odine in FH. He might know what's going on with Squall, and possibly what to do about it."

"Awesome! So what's the—"

"She's got a plan."

"Ah."

"I bet it's a great one!" Selphie said. "Rinoa's good at coming up with plans."

"Well, this is definitely one of hers," Quistis murmured.

Zell was wearing a track in the carpet in front of the desk. "It's risky as hell," he said, "but if Doc Odine's right about Squall..."

"And Ferdid," Quistis said grimly. At Irvine and Selphie's looks, she explained the president's fate. Then she outlined Rinoa's scheme.

Irvine whistled when she was through. "If she can pull it off..."

"She will," Zell said. "We already gave her the information she needed. Now, before we attack, she just needs us to be a distraction."

"Doing what?"

"She came up with that, too," Quistis said.

Selphie beamed when she heard the details. "That'll distract 'em, all right! What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

 

* * *

"What is this?" Jezikan snarled, stabbing at the computer keys.

"We don't know," the major she had summoned reported. "It's on every screen in FH—something with the central computer. Those are Fisherman's Horizons glyphs, but we don't have any translators. The citizens are all saying they're nonsense. Just a glitch, maybe."

"Bring the mayor, so he may confirm this personally," she ordered coolly. "Dismissed." As soon as the soldier was gone, she opened an audio line to the main lower laboratory, frowning when several seconds passed. When Dr. Odine finally answered, she snapped, "Doctor, I expect you to be punctual."

"Yes, my lady president," he babbled nervously. "I am busy, most busy—"

She made an effort to calm herself. He was the only one she dared not push too hard; he was the only one she needed. "I apologize, Doctor. I only wished to ask if you have anything to do with this—computer problem." She glared at the monitor before her, which like every other screen in the room and elsewhere in FH was filled with a series of incomprehensible symbols.

"Ah, yes, I apologize, I inadvertently tripped an old emergency system. Most sorry, most sorry for the trouble—"

"Is it interfering with your work?"

"Not at all. No. It continues quite excellently, my lady—"

"Fine. Then that is all, Doctor." She ended the communication before his obsequious chatter got the better of her patience. He sounded even more high-strung than usual. This close to fulfilling his dream—scientists. All he wanted was to see the Lunatic Pandora spin to his gadgets; what he could actually do with it didn't matter a whit. A foolish man, for all his genius. She looked forward to when he could be disposed of as well.

 

* * *

Rinoa barely dared breathe until Jezikan switched off the line. The doctor had promised not to reveal her, but she doubted he could hold the secret long against a sustained inquisition. "You aren't going to say anything?" she asked, as if she'd believe him no matter how many times he swore it.

"What do you take Dr. Odine for?" he demanded, outraged. "I will not reveal you—you are too important. Far too important to allow they to use you!"

"You didn't have any problems with it before," Rinoa remarked as she studied the floor plans on the desk com again. She had the best route memorized, but if it proved too difficult to get around the guards she would need an alternative.

The doctor was sputtering about choices at the time and lack of options. He concluded, "You are more valuable if willing—you are willing, yes?"

"I said I was." A vow she was regretting more with each second. He was remarkably cagey about what he needed her for—she hadn't yet succeeded in working out what the Galbadians wanted. To control something—a weapon? But there were no weapons at Fisherman's Horizon. It didn't make sense. Nor did the glee in his expression as he regarded her. His fixed, evaluating stare was decidedly creepy; bugs under microscopes probably felt less scrutinized. She would be glad to escape it. "Okay. You're going to stay right here and keep doing whatever you're doing. Right? And be ready. This room is shielded, but take care. Got it?"

Once she had a final confirmation from him, she released the hook to lower the ladder on the ceiling. With a deep breath, she grasped the cool rungs and climbed, past the corner monitor blinking the same message as all the rest.

She couldn't read most of it, but she had triple-checked the glyphs with Quistis against the dictionary on the Garden network. Most citizens of FH would follow it without difficulty; the terminology was designed to be clear and concise, though few translations of the Shumi-based code existed to allow any outsiders to learn it. But for those with the knowledge, the symbols would read: SECRET [do not reveal]. PREPARE. [Upon] SIGNAL, [seek] HIDING [place, protected from] ELECTRICITY.

She hoped that was clear enough. Whether everyone would get the message in time was one uncertainty. She knew she could rely on the SeeD to provide the signal. Which meant everything else was up to her.

"Exciting enough for you?" Rinoa muttered under her breath to herself. Mounting the final rung of the ladder, she pushed open the grate above her head and pulled herself up to the next floor.


	8. Attack & Defense

"We're all set here," Irvine reported. "Soon as Rinoa gives us the go, we'll do it." He snapped the receiver back on its hook and stretched his legs the best he could. The sharpshooter's lanky form was not suited to the tight confines of the shuttle-sub, especially not in a cockpit with three other people. The brim of his hat crumpled against the curved ceiling.

Selphie, who had no difficulties folding her petite figure into the pilot's seat, wriggled with barely suppressed energy. "This is gonna be so keen! She must be almost there, it's been hours—"

"It's been about forty-five minutes," Zell corrected, glancing at his watch for the fourth time that minute. "I hope Rinoa's okay. How you holding up, Sashi?"

The SeeD librarian was gazing out the window into the blue water. At the question she looked to Zell and attempted to smile. "Okay, I guess. Just a little nervous. The last time I junctioned a guardian force was last year, during the battle between the Gardens. I hope..."

Seated as she was behind Irvine's seat, Sashi couldn't see the sharpshooter gesturing to Zell. At the prompting, Zell hesitantly reached out, and finally gathered the gumption to take her hand. He was mildly surprised when she didn't pull away. "It'll...uh...it'll be fine, Sashi," he said. "It's not like that attack. Heck, if Rinoa's plan goes right, this isn't gonna be a battle at all." Which didn't entirely satisfy him. Though if the Lord Dahl and Jezikan were as sly as they were made out to be, there'd be a fight yet. And Zell was going to be damn sure he was leading that charge.

"It's not the fighting, even," Sashi admitted. "It's...everyone's depending on us. Everyone in FH, and Commander Squall..."

"I know what you mean," Irvine said quietly from the front. "Kinda feels like you're about to go onstage, and even though you know the music perfectly, with everyone watching you _know_ you're gonna screw up—"

"So that's what happened to my band last year," Selphie mumbled, then smiled sweetly at Irvine's annoyed look.

Sashi nodded. "That's it. Like stage fright. I know I can fight, but..."

"You'll do great," Zell said. "You're not fighting alone, remember; we're all with you. And yeah, lots of people are depending on us, so we have an even better reason to fight well. Because we can't let them down. We ain't gonna."

She smiled in earnest now. "Thanks, Zell. I—"

The radio beeped and Irvine grabbed it. Rinoa spoke in a whisper, the transmission crackling like ripping paper. "Hope you're all there. Do it."

Quistis came on as soon as she went off. "Selphie, Xu, time exactly five minutes to surface and for everyone to get above deck and prepare. Starting—now!"

There was a flurry of flailing limbs as the three SeeD struggled out of their seats and dove for the portal, while Selphie guided the sub up. By the time the vessel bobbed above the waves, Zell was opening the top hatch. Climbing out, he slid down the hull and planted his boots along the rim, then steadied Sashi as she joined him. The green water splashed at their feet. On the other side, Irvine secured his position. Selphie, having put the sub on autopilot, popped out of the hatch and leaned against the ladder.

Fisherman's Horizon loomed before them, waves lapping against the massive pillar rising from the water. On either side the narrow train trestles vanished into the endless cerulean horizons. Floating on the sea in the lee of the spreading dish, Galbadia Garden looked like a snail shell nestled under a coral shelf.

Zell checked his watch and shouted, "Twenty seconds!" Sashi gripped his arm as the vessel rocked with the sea. He patted her shoulder, comfortingly he hoped. "You ready?"

She nodded, brow furrowing in concentration as she let go of his arm to raise her hands. "You're gonna do great," he assured her. "Ten seconds!" He counted them off with her. "Four - three - two - one - go!"

Then, bracing himself against the salt-slick hull, he spread his arms and reached into his mind, to summon what was junctioned there.

 

* * *

Cid Kramer, with his wife, had founded SeeD. He had supervised the building of the Gardens and personally judged most promotion exams. Of the soldiers heading Balamb Garden, he had known half since early childhood, had watched with paternal pride as they grew up and into themselves.

And even so, they still could surprise him.

The mayor of FH had insisted to Jezikan that the glyphs flashing on every screen were untranslatable. After the lady joined Lord Dahl upstairs, the mayor had whispered the message's true meaning to Cid, so the headmaster had known, broadly, what to expect. They would be protected; the mayor's house, originally the main control center, was fully insulated. Which meant Jezikan and Dahl would be safe, and the soldiers with them, but Cid had been confident his SeeD would find ways around that.

They had, and it was magnificent. At the first shout of alarm he had thought the dish had been activated again. But the floor was steady, and the soldiers were instead pointing to the sky, which brightened like a second sun was rising. From a mountain range inexplicably manifested on the ocean horizon, a gigantic robot lifted itself to cast brilliant lances of white light at FH.

_Alexander_, Cid identified the guardian force, just as a panicked scream sounded on the other side of the platform. Soldiers rushed from the house to attend to the new peril, a dragon the size of a castle dive-bombing the rim of the satellite dish.

If the soldiers had been more observant, they would have noticed that Bahamut's talons left no mark on the metal. Guardian forces struck directly at foes; they had no impact on the environment outside the other-state. But that barely mattered. Soldiers were accustomed to facing one or two forces in combat. The appearance of a dozen simultaneously, out of clear and peaceful skies, was more than they could handle, especially as they had never even heard of the more exotic summoned here.

The forces did have some effects beyond mere surprise. Cid saw three soldiers lifted by Pandemonium's whirlwind and carried over the dish into the sea, and Diablo's casting was specifically aimed at an unfortunate pair of watchmen on a transport tower. But guardian forces were seldom used in major warfare for a reason; they were limited by the visibility of their targets, and even the strongest could only strike a few at once. As a signal, however, they could not be missed.

They also served well as a distraction, Cid noted. The chaos was unparalleled. Implying whoever had made it onto the city—Squall, perhaps? he wouldn't have wanted to delegate that task—whoever it was must be readying their own attack. His attention on the two remaining guards, Cid squatted on the wooden floor beside the mayor, and waited.

 

* * *

Near the lower hub of Fisherman's Horizon, Rinoa had no vantage point from which to watch her requested distraction. She told its effectiveness by counting the pairs of boots which marched and then ran over the walkway overhead. Pressed against the wall, far back in the shadows, she waited until all was silent.

Finally deeming it safe, she stepped back, taking the full measure of the sight before her. She faced the primary power core of the city. Strung with wires and monitoring lights, the great cylinder hummed the root note of FH's machinery chord. Beneath the translucent screen, sparks whirled and popped like trapped fireflies. When she put her hand to the warm barrier, the light congregated, outlining her fingers in a reversed shadow of glowing blue.

Rinoa pulled away, closing her eyes momentarily in concentration. She hoped as many as possible had gotten her message. She hoped as well that the engineers of FH would forgive her, given the circumstances. Gathering herself, she whispered the tripling spell. The heady rush of power was nothing like tapping a guardian force's abilities. Pure and strong, it came; without an intercessor between her and the other-state, the magic tasted sweet on her tongue, shone bright in her eyes.

Arms raised, she cast the thundaga. Three times lightning struck the power core. Enhanced by the Sorceress's gift, the energy of each bolt was more than Quetzalcoatl could produce, stronger by many times than the core's flow. Under the assault, the sparks brightened to an agonized white, power fleeing along the wires. Electricity arced between the monitors in the room, flickering madly around the overloading circuitry.

Then with a thunderous crash the cylinder cracked up and down its length, and went dark.

Hum failing like the groan of a dying man, Fisherman's Horizon went dark as well.

 

* * *

"She did it!" Raijin exclaimed, nearly stumbling off the top of the vessel in his excitement. Fujin grabbed his belt and glared a warning.

"Looks like," Quistis agreed from the other side of the ship, focusing her binoculars on the city. The lights blinking along the dish's rim had abruptly ceased, and she no longer made out any soldiers standing watch.

They might all be in hiding, if the guardian forces had done the trick. Quistis was halfway surprised no trace of those powers remained now, minutes later—she had almost expected the concentration of summons to rupture the other-state. But even in herself she felt no difference; Eden had retreated to whence it came as always. Fujin was still looking abnormally cheerful—she had come extraordinarily close to smiling when allowed to junction Pandemonium once again. Otherwise nothing had changed.

Excepting the darkened city, more noticeable in the growing twilight. The sun sank into the sea behind them as Quistis studied FH through the scopes. "Nothing seems to be on."

"Let me look," Kiros asked, reaching down from the hatch where he had summoned Siren. Quistis handed him the binoculars, then switched on her radio. "Selphie, Xu, come in. FH is out—that's our cue to move in."

"We're on it," Selphie said.

"One moment," Xu requested from the third vessel. "Laguna might've seen something—"

"Not sure," Laguna demurred. "Looked like a flare or somethin'. Kiros, you there?"

"Here." Kiros raised his voice as Quistis held the radio up toward him. "Everyone's behaving. Where'd you see this flare or whatever?"

"North side of the rim. But I don't see nothing there now. Maybe a warning signal to a ship that's not docked. The other ones are gonna be stuck until the power's up again. Think the back-up generator was taken out too?"

"Considering I don't see any lights, looks like. They're sitting ducks."

"Raijin, Fujin, get below," Quistis ordered. "We need to move."

 

* * *

"We have to go now," Cid said matter-of-factly, helping the mayor to his feet. "The guards will be returning." The two soldiers had run outside to assist at the first sign of the power overload. Cid had dragged a large bookcase before the front door after locking it, but that wouldn't hold the guards back for long. Jezikan and Dahl were still upstairs, wisely avoiding the panic and the paralyzing sparks from the shorted equipment. Now that was settling, they'd come down any minute.

"Go where?" the old man demanded. "There's no ships able to leave, without power to release the grapples." He squinted dubiously at the orange alarm lights and dimmed monitors. His house had a separate emergency generator, but the machinery did little good when the rest of the city's network was disabled. "Your warriors have wrought more damage than the Galbadians—"

Cid didn't like to interrupt people, but he had little choice. "We can discuss reparations later—does your house have another exit?"

"This way." The mayor lead him to the back of the room, where he released a hidden mechanism and slid aside a console. Shiny aluminum rungs lead down into a dark passage. "You go to your people," the mayor said. "I'll stay. Someone needs to reason with these—"

"You'll reason more effectively alive," Cid told him. "And be better able to defend your people. You can do nothing for them here—Jezikan'll kill you, your wife, anyone, out of spite." There was a loud bang on the door, then another. Not all the soldiers had been rendered unconscious by the electricity, then. Slipping his glasses into his vest pocket, the headmaster grabbed the mayor's arm. "Galbadia Garden should still have power. You have the codes to enter it, correct? I'm afraid I haven't memorized them quite yet. Come on. For the sake of your citizens."

After a token resistance, the mayor allowed himself to be helped down the ladder, then lead the way through the twisting, lightless passages to the Garden's dock.

 

* * *

With FH's defenses down, the Galbadians were no match for the SeeD. The submarines surfaced to board alongside Galbadia Garden, which the SeeD soon discovered was tightly sealed off. The gate off where they docked had to be forced open, and once in the city, there were no citizens available to grant them passage onto their other Garden. At least it was equally secure from the Galbadians.

"Rinoa's plan must've worked," Irvine observed, tightening the cording around the wrists of the last soldier they had encountered. The man groaned. He and his comrade had apparently been half-stunned by an exploding terminal. The damage wasn't severe enough to cause fatalities, but the Galbadian forces were not at full strength.

Hopefully Cid and the others had been able to take advantage of this. A lump of ice lodged in Quistis's gut at the thought that Jezikan might attempt to carry out her threat of retribution. If she killed... No. Squall had the right idea. Some things you don't think about; you just go on with your duty.

"Xu, Sashi, the rest of you." Quistis looked over the SeeD and Raijin and Fujin, "stay here and try to get onto Galbadia Garden. Look for an FH citizen. If you meet more Galbadians, take them prisoner. And contact Balamb Garden to explain the situation; the other SeeD can begin preparing to come over.

"Laguna, Kiros..." She hesitated. Commanding Seifer's posse was one thing, but the leaders of Esthar had volunteered to come; they definitely weren't under her command. "Can you help Xu and the others? The Fishermen will listen to you."

Laguna smiled and nodded; Kiros gave a quick bow. "Yes, ma'am!"

"Thank you," Quistis said, relieved. "Irvine, Selphie, Zell, we're going to find Cid and Rinoa." And Lord Dahl, but she suspected that would be achieved by seeking Rinoa. Gesturing to her chosen party, she headed toward the closest ramp to the central stage, where the mayor's house was perched. Jezikan's communication had originated there; it was a logical base of operations for the Galbadians to run their campaign.

In the fading evening dusk, the sloping dish was cast in deep blue shadow. A single golden beacon burned in the mayoral house's highest window. Otherwise the only light came from the rising moon, giant on the horizon, the sky's single pale eye overlooking sea and stars alike with the same indifference.

With the fall of darkness, other gleams lit erratically around the dish as Galbadian soldiers activated their torches. They might not even realize their security was breached; all radios would have been shorted out, and the SeeD had captured the few who had spotted them. The soldiers' flashlights bobbed over the dish as they hurried to restore order, a chaotic dance of white points of light.

"Isn't it romantic?" Selphie sighed. "I wonder if they'll let us do another concert here, later..."

"We'll be lucky if they don't throw us into the drink," Zell muttered, "after what Rinoa did. Bet even their engineers'll have a time fixing it."

"It's better than Galbadian occupation," Irvine pointed out.

"I don't see anyone patrolling," Quistis said, silencing the others. "Let's go for it." At her signal, they all dashed down the ramp, making for the central house and whoever tended the light in its attic.

 

* * *

Rinoa carefully counted her steps through the tunnel, guided by a flickering magic flame. According to the city map on Odine's lab terminal, the hatch above should open in the mayor's house, where Cid might still be, and Jezikan and Dahl as well. She readied her magic before opening it. The tripled sleep spell would hopefully be enough to counter any immediate threat, and she drew her knife as an extra precaution.

After extinguishing the fire, she stealthily pushed up the panel. There was no sound from the darkness above, and she poked up her head into the shadowed house. Better than the blackness of the tunnel, but not by much; the sky outside the windows was charcoal gray, and the only shapes she could make out were the motionless machines silhouetted against them. "Cid?" she whispered, climbing out.

"He's gone," purred a low alto, and Rinoa heard the click of a cocked hammer. She blinked as with another click a dim yellow light came on, revealing Jezikan Deling only a few feet away. The pistol in her delicate hands was pointed unwaveringly at Rinoa's temple. "Though I suspected someone might come for him. Put the knife down, dear."

Rinoa nodded jerkily and bent to lay it on the ground. As she did, she prepared a shield spell, readying herself to rush the other woman. She was lifting her hand to cast when she felt Jezikan touch her arm, a brush of icy metal—

And the magic was gone, as surely as if she were muted, or had been junctioning a guardian force suddenly murdered. Gasping, she jerked up, grabbing for the cold chain latched around her forearm.

"Don't touch it, girl," Jezikan snapped. "I will shoot you, if I need to."

Rinoa lowered her hand, arching her neck to stare down at the armlet. The twisting metal and gemstone mocked her with its familiarity. Only a year ago, she had failed to use this very bauble as Jezikan had succeeded with it now. Dr. Odine's bangle. It was indeed effective against Sorceresses...

"I knew it would be you," the lady said. She didn't lower the pistol, but she was smiling now, her face as cruel as it was beautiful. "The foolish doctor wouldn't betray us for just anyone. But you're a key to him. A marvelous mystery. Lord Dahl's with him now, to make sure he completes his work in time. Without distractions." Her smile broadened. "You know, I believe Dahl himself is the doctor's greatest fear. His own creation, whom he can neither control nor understand.

"That's why you came here, isn't it." Jezikan stepped closer, so that through the dimness Rinoa could see each of her long lashes, like finest copper wire curving up from her shaded eyelids. "For Dahl. For the sake of the SeeD commander. Ah, what rash lengths love drives the young to. You should have taken more care. You have power, girl. But it doesn't do any good if you don't know how to use it."

Rinoa stood still, her hands in fists at her side, gazing straight forward rather than raise her eyes to Jezikan's. The lady laughed, a low, courtly trill. "You needn't be so silent; this isn't an interrogation. You're not a soldier, or a SeeD. You're a Sorceress. You're a danger to me, a grave one, but you aren't my enemy. I admire your strength more than I hate it. Far more. Your gift—"

"It isn't a gift," Rinoa said.

"It's a curse I'd have gladly taken on myself," Jezikan replied. "Even with its disadvantages." She glanced pointedly at the bangle. "I should bring you to Odine, shouldn't I. But he'll only want to use you."

"Like you don't."

"Not in the same way," the lady demurred. "To him, you're a device, as fascinating as one of the ancients' gadgets. Just as you're a weapon to the SeeD. Just a tool, a powerful tool. Do you think they care about you? They only care about what you can do for them. I've met your beloved commander. Do you really believe he feels anything for you? All he sees is the Sorceress.

"I see the power—I want the power, I'll admit that—but I see you within it. The Sorceress, and the girl who is the Sorceress—they're different, aren't they? And yet the same. Bind one, and the other is tied as well. Free one, to everything she might dream of reaching, and the other is also freed..."

She reached one elegant hand toward the bangle, when the outside door rattled under a resounding blow. The lock creaked ominously. "What?" Jezikan cried, whirling to bring the gun to bear at the new threat.

The half-second she took her eyes off her prey was more than enough. Rinoa didn't attempt to tear off Odine's bangle. She simply swung her fist, throwing her entire weight into the blow, augmented by her rising anger and even stronger fear.

Jezikan turned back just in time for the punch to catch her square in her graceful jaw. The lady went down as the door burst inward, Zell almost falling after it with the force of his kick. Quistis, Selphie, and Irvine pushed in behind him.

Rinoa, shaking her hand and trying not to wince, crouched by Jezikan to verify the lady's faint was not act. When she was certain she finally looked up at her friends. "I didn't ask—"

"Like we'd let you have all the fun," Zell said. But he wasn't smiling. "Where's Dahl?"

"Not here. He's with Dr. Odine, she said." Rinoa yanked at the chain around her arm, but the links wouldn't snap. "She must've got this from him—"

"Let me see that." Irvine bent over her. "The bangle, huh? Does it work?"

"Like a charm." Rinoa sighed. "I didn't see her until it was too late—I thought I had it covered, with the magic, but..."

With deft fingers, Irvine pried apart the locked clasp and drew off the armlet. Rinoa exhaled at the rush of her restored power, almost tangible in its return, as if it had been heightened by the suppression. She straightened, then turned to Zell, who with Selphie had already bound Jezikan's wrists and was about to tie a cord around her ankles. "Don't. We'll take her to Odine's lab—maybe Lord Dahl will give in when he sees her."

"Are you all right, Rinoa?" Quistis asked, as Zell and Selphie less than gently yanked the stunned lady to her feet. "Did she try anything—"

"She didn't get a chance." Rinoa picked up the gun that had fallen from Jezikan's grasp, then retrieved her knife. "I'm all right. I'll be better when we find Dahl." She heard her voice waver, ignored it. "Come on. "

A small army was waiting for them outside the Mayor's house. Zell clapped his hand over Jezikan's mouth before she could issue an order, while Selphie and Irvine shrugged and summoned Ifrit and Shiva. Fire and ice whipped through the gathered ranks, and they hurried by in the forces' wake. The few soldiers who recovered quickly enough to bar their path encountered Quistis's whip, Zell's fists, and a variety of spells from Rinoa. She was barely conscious of their casting; the magic flew from her fingers as she waved them, hardly seeming to deplete her stores. Blinded, burned, shocked, stunned, her enemies staggered back. Somewhere inside her a little voice stammered, _I did that?_ but she didn't have time to listen.

The reflect spell took her off-guard; when the blizzaga turned back on her, she barely dispelled the miniature ice storm in time. The bitter cold whipped through her thin shirt, but she narrowed her eyes against the wind and flung a second dispel at the magus, a tall figure strategically positioned behind the troops. The reflective shell blasted apart.

Realizing his protection was gone, the magus hastily retreated as he recast. So intent was he on his magic that he failed to realize the presence behind him until it was too late. The massive staff descending on his skull effectively silenced him.

"Thanks, Ward!" Selphie cried, beaming as she bounced over the felled soldiers to greet the Esthar minister. The huge man nodded a greeting while the others walked up the ramp after Selphie, Zell shoving Jezikan along in front of him.

"When did you come?" Quistis asked of Ward. "You weren't on the ships—"

"He came with me." Ellone stepped out from behind the minister, dwarfed in his shadow. "Laguna asked Ward to bring me over. If I can meet this Lord Dahl, I might be able to learn what he's doing to Squall. How he's doing it."

"I dunno," Irvine murmured. "This Dahl sounds like a dangerous character..."

Rinoa glanced pointedly at the unconscious magus, at the troops crumpled around them. "So are we." She started up the ramp again, Ward, Ellone, and the SeeD dragging Jezikan behind her.

 

* * *

Kiros could tell Laguna was trying not to fidget. Esthar's president stood quietly as they rode the lift, his hands casually stuck in his pockets. Only his tapping boot betrayed his tension, and the alacrity with which he shot through the doors when they slid open. Kiros, Cid, and the Mayor of FH were right behind him entering Galbadia Garden's central office and bridge.

The SeeD headmaster had arrived with the mayor minutes after Quistis and the others departed. With the mayor's assistance, they had all boarded Galbadia Garden, along with several citizens of Fisherman's Horizon. With a little luck, the Galbadian soldiers wouldn't realize the Garden was functional until it was too late.

Cid headed to the com behind the main desk, activating the computer per the mayor's instructions. Laguna paced around the room—smaller than the office in Balamb Garden, Kiros noted, but more lavishly decorated, the knobs on desk and drawer leafed with gold and the walls hung with framed portraits. A pair of crossed silver swords mounted behind the desk bore witness to the military nature of the Garden.

Machinery whirred to life as Cid worked and the president of Esthar wore out the thick carpet. Kiros fingered his communicator, wondering if he should risk contacting Quistis.

"Hey? Um, excuse us..."

Laguna snapped around to face Raijin hovering the doorway, Fujin behind him. "Yes?"

The two had been put on guard duty with Xu. "Ward's in FH, right outside the Garden," Raijin reported. "Think he wants in, ya know? Only he's got a guy with him."

"A guy?" Kiros raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wasn't Ward supposed to come with Ellone? Who is it?"

Raijin shook his head. "Ward won't let him talk. And he couldn't really tell us the guy's name himself, ya know."

"I'll check it out," Kiros volunteered, accompanying Raijin and Fujin down.

In a few minutes he returned with the two new arrivals. Ward had one broad hand locked over the other man's mouth, and didn't release him until they were standing in the office. His scrawny captive staggered, then straightened, adjusting his collar while he gaped at them.

Laguna's mouth twisted in a smile much closer to an evil grin than most would have thought him capable of. "Dr. Odine. Nice to see you again."

"Uh—ah! My lord President!" The doctor dipped in a bow so deep he nearly off-balanced himself. "I, ehm, was not expecting, that is to say, I did not think—"

"What are you doing here?" Kiros snapped. "Rinoa already told us you're working for the Galbadians—why?" He turned to Laguna. "Ward says Quistis and the others found Rinoa. They've captured Jezikan and now they're with Ellone, searching for Lord Dahl. They tried asking the doc here, but he wasn't much help. To keep him from causing trouble they had Ward bring him to us while they kept hunting." He shoved Odine none too gently, making him stumble. "C'mon, doc, we're waiting. Talk to us."

Odine blinked rapidly, pasty face paling further. "You sent—Ellone—after Dahl?" he demanded in a strangled voice. "I didn't see her—you'll have her killed as well? Bad enough the Sorceress might die—"

"Die?"

"Relax, Laguna. Quistis and Rinoa know what they're doing." Kiros hoped, anyway. Ellone had trouble using her powers with more than a few people at a time; with luck Dahl had the same limitations. How dangerous could the man possibly be, after Ultimecia... "We're talking about you, doc. What's your scheme?"

Cid had been watching silently, still busy with the com. Now he raised his head, announced, "I think I know." And the back of Kiros's neck prickled at his too-calm tone. The headmaster mounted the lift to the bridge. "I need to make sure," he said, pulling a small pair of binoculars from his pocket.

Odine's eyes widened to bulging domes. "It's come?" he whispered, than nearly shouted it. "It's come!" Hard to say if his fervor was exhilaration or abject terror. "I must see—you must return me to my lab! If it is here, I must have my equipment ready!"

"If what's here?" Laguna took the words out of Kiros's mouth. "Jezikan's called in the cavalry? What's coming?" He sounded lightly curious, but to judge from his expression, the president had the same sinking feeling as his minister, one that said they might be better off not knowing.

 

* * *

"Sis should've gone back with Ward," Zell whispered to Quistis, glancing worriedly back at Ellone as she followed the SeeD through the bowels of Fisherman's Horizon. "She doesn't know how to fight. If Dahl's got soldiers guarding him, or if more come after us..."

"We'll protect her," Quistis murmured back. "She wanted to come—"

They both jumped as a distant klaxon began wailing, echoing through the metal corridors. "What is that?" Zell hissed.

"Ship's alert," Rinoa said from where she walked in front. "Galbadian vessels, several of them." She stopped and looked back to glare at Jezikan, still bound and escorted by Irvine and Selphie. "What's going on?"

The lady arched an eyebrow. "I should know? You're the ones who captured me."

"Damn straight, you should know," Zell growled, taking a step toward her. She didn't shy back. "They're your ships, and you attacked FH."

Jezikan shrugged. "Maybe they've sounded the alarm to go after you."

"No," Rinoa disagreed. "You're lying. It's in your face. What are they signaling?"

"Tell her," Irvine commanded, shoving the lady. "Or—" Mid-phrase he broke off, jerking up his head as if detecting a sudden noise.

"Irvine?" Selphie asked. Instead of answering her, the sharpshooter clapped his hands over his ears. His mouth opened as if he were screaming, but he made no sound, his face contorting with brief agony before going slack. Then he dropped like a stone, falling heavily on the metal floor and making no effort to rise.

"Irvine!" Selphie cried, releasing Jezikan to lunge for him. Before she reached him she lurched as if ramming an invisible barrier. With a gasp she stumbled to her knees, then pitched forward. Zell cursed, but before he could take more than a step toward his fallen friends he too choked and crumpled.

Quistis stared, momentarily frozen by both the suddenness of their reactions, and the unmistakable terror that had flashed in their eyes. What spell could—

It took her in that instant, and she fell before she comprehended what had seized her.

Rinoa needed no time to understand. "Stop it!" she shouted, raising her dagger as she grabbed Jezikan's arm. "Tell Dahl to let them go, or I'll..." She pressed the blade to the lady's throat.

Jezikan laughed as loudly as she dared without risking a cut. "And why do you think he'd care?"

"Because—"

A door to her left slid open. Through it she glimpsed a man, transparently fair but for his intense black eyes, fixed on her as if to scorch her with ebon fire.

"Dahl," she began.

And was struck by a rising dark she recognized too well. Before she had witnessed Squall dragged into its depths. Now she was drawn down, and however she fought with strength or magic, it was a useless defense. Before she could draw a breath she was swallowed by the whirling blackness.

Rinoa collapsed, the knife clattering from her lax fingers. Jezikan stooped to retrieve the blade, swiftly slicing through the cord around her wrists. She stood, rubbing the chafed skin—the boy needn't have tied her so tightly. She kicked his limp body in the ribs, then looked around. The meek young woman following them had disappeared. No matter; even if Dahl hadn't noticed her, she was of little consequence.

The lord was slumped in a chair, narrow chest heaving and his eyes still locked on the Sorceress girl. Jezikan considered waiting for him to come to his senses, then listened to the distant wail of the alarms. Only one thing could account for that level of alert. The knowledge of its arrival drew her, siren-like. Leaving Dahl presiding over the felled SeeD, she lifted her skirts and hurried down the corridor. First back to Odine's lab, then to a ship and what awaited her outside.

 

* * *

Once there was a people compared to whom Esthar seemed primitive, who made the grand technology of the Country of the Shield obsolete. So long past that the volumes of their histories had disintegrated eons ago, they had left for the stars, to be remembered in narratives, then only as myth. They hardly seemed real, these ancients, and they left but two legacies. The first was that mythology, hundreds of stories spread among dozens of peoples, all corroborating some details and contradicting others. Legends, and they would seem nothing more, were it not for their other relic.

They had built it with all their skill, to harness the living magic energy even those ancients with all their wisdom hadn't entirely understood. Within its frame a Sorceress's powers were assimilated, conserved and magnified a thousand times over. So great was this energy that it took a price from the heavens, invoking a magnetic pull on the monsters of the moon and drawing them down on the world to wreak destruction, an immutable, irrevocable force. Once activated, even the ancients could not control the awesome potential of their creation.

The Lunatic Pandora, legend christened it. An insane gift from demented, banished gods. The greatest weapon the greatest of civilizations had ever constructed.

Now from the sea the Lunatic Pandora had risen again. Obedient to the signal sent, it swept over land and ocean until it reached its destination, casting a long shadow over Fisherman's Horizon.

From the bridge of Galbadia Garden, Kiros craned his neck up at the massive, featureless, black tower blotting out the stars. Hoping his hands weren't shaking visibly, he handed Cid's binoculars to his president, and muttered, "I think the cavalry's here."

 

* * *

In the deep warren of FH, Lord Dahl sat in the low-backed frame chair, panting as he gripped the aluminum arms. Sweat darkened his fair hair, beaded on his forehead and trickled down his blanched cheeks. Never had he reached so many at once, and none well-known to him. His few previous encounters had given him enough leverage to touch the SeeD, but it was a great strain. Unlike his attack on Squall, he struck with the intent to kill immediately, strengthening and hastening the grip of their horrors. He had not been able to drive any of them immediately to death, but it was inevitable now that they were down.

He had noticed the other girl with the SeeD, but he ignored her for now. Ensnaring the Sorceress proved even more difficult than he had guessed, harder to conquer than even the willful SeeD commander. With concentrated effort he used what knowledge he had of the girl to force her completely into herself, her own dread unlocking the nightmares. Once they set upon her he pulled back, the visions vivid even from his detached perspective. Pallid with both the effort and the thrill of exerting his power, he reveled in the raw intensity of her fears.

Mere paces away, her body sprawled in the corridor outside Dahl's chamber, Rinoa walked a dark path thousands of miles distant. She stood in Deling City, the gate of her father's estate closed before her, driven by a panic borne of sure knowledge of danger.

She knew the gateway's code, but the lock wouldn't clear. "I need my father," she gasped into the square voder behind the metal bars. "It's important. Please, get General Caraway!"

She almost sobbed with relief when the straight-backed figure emerged from the manor. "Dad, let me in, we need help—"

"You're not my daughter." There were a stranger's eyes in her father's familiar face. "I have no daughter."

"Father," she begged, "please, we're in trouble—"

"Go away or I will have you arrested," he told her coldly.

"No—no, please! Daddy, help me, please!"

But he turned his back to her, unhearing, and marched away without a single glance behind him.

Backing from the gate slowly, shaking her head in tearful denial, she stumbled into someone behind her.

"Hey, look where you're going!"

She recognized the voice, whirled with a sudden smile. "Zone! Watt!"

All that greeted her was an anomalous frown. "Do we know—"

"It's me. Listen, you have to come with me, I need to save them—" She saw no recognition in their faces. "You know me, it's Rinoa—"

Zone's brow darkened unnaturally. "Oh, yeah, you're that girl. The one who called herself a princess. We're better off without your help."

"What should we do with her, sir?" Watt seized her by the arm. Before the other boy grabbed her she tore away, staring at them. Their mouths twisted in ugly lines, they advanced on her.

With no will to fight her old compatriots, she ran. She knew the city's streets, but all the faces she saw were unfamiliar, watching her with bitter suspicion.

On the outskirts of the city she found Balamb Garden. Every entrance was closed off. She beat her fists against the unyielding wall. Behind it the SeeD guards watched her in blank confusion. "Who are you? Why are you trying to get in?"

"I'm Rinoa Heartilly!" she cried. "I live here! We were on a mission—we need help. I need to find help, Quistis and the others—" Her voice grew hoarse and her eyes burned. "Please let me in, I—" They were turning away, as her father had, deaf to her appeal. "Please!" she cried desperately.

"Why are you shouting?"

She spun around. "Squall?"

He was standing beside her, awake, alive, watching her. She flung herself at him, half-sure he would melt away under her arms, but he remained solid. She pressed her face against the soft fur ruff of his jacket, fighting sobs. "Squall, oh please—"

He took her by the wrists, wrenching her hands off his shoulders. She stared up at him, dazed. "Squall?"

"Why are you shouting?" he repeated. "They don't hear you. No one is listening."

"You heard me," she said, her mouth dry. "You're listening..."

He shrugged diffidently, releasing her wrists with a sharp twist that shoved her back. "I'm not paying attention. Why should I? I'm tired of you. You think you're so special and talented, but you're no one. What have you done, that you could mean anything to me? I don't care about people. Why would I care about you?" His stare was frozen gray, as biting as snow on her bare skin.

"No." She took a step toward him. "No, that's wrong, that's not what you're really like. This is a trick. A spell. It must be." She took another step, reaching toward him. "Please, Squall, listen to me—"

"I told you. No one hears you. No one cares." He drew Lionheart from its sheath. "Get out of here."

"I can't." She shook her head, her hair lashing her cheeks. "It's too important—I won't go. You have to hear me—whatever's wrong, you know me." She put her hand on his arm. "I love—"

The gunblade slashed across her stomach almost without pain, so sharp it took a moment before the wound began to bleed, as if the flesh were unaware of being parted. Then it poured from her, scarlet flooding down and staining her coat. He watched her unperturbed, methodically wiping clean the glimmering blade.

She clasped her abdomen tightly, but the cut was too long and deep to staunch. She couldn't dam back the blood, and he wouldn't help her, didn't move as she stumbled to her knees, dizzy with more than pain. And even so she didn't, couldn't hate him, even as her sight darkened and shrank until all she saw were his eyes, still watching, calm and cold...

She was lying on hard metal grating, her arms crossed over her whole stomach. There was no pain, no blood. With the gasp of a nightmare broken, Rinoa opened her eyes.

Beside her, Zell sat straight up and stared down at his arms as if astonished to find them there. Rinoa looked past him to Selphie, curled in fetal position, knees tucked under her chin. A couple feet away, Irvine struggled up. Spotting Selphie, he gave an inarticulate cry and half-lunged, half-crawled to her side. The urgency with which he embraced her left little doubt to the content of his nightmare. The way Selphie jerked, then latched onto him in turn, gave equal testament of her own vision. Quistis, her whip discarded at her side, blinked slowly as she rose, two narrow tracks of tears running down her cheeks from her blue eyes.

Kneeling in the corridor on the open door's threshold, Ellone sobbed uncontrollably.

Rinoa crossed to her, balancing with effort like one drunk or walking in dreams. Ellone's head was bowed, her green sweater wrapped around herself. "I had to," she wept. "Quisty, Zell...he was killing all of you. I had to."

In the room through the door, Dahl was draped over a chair like a broken marionette, limbs sprawled awkwardly and his neck arched back. He was breathing, very slow but even. When Rinoa tilted his head forward, his eyes were open, their fathomless black staring at a nothing too terrible to comprehend.

"What'd you do?" Rinoa asked quietly.

Ellone's hands were twisting her cardigan so tightly the seams were strained. "I knew he was there," she whispered. "I felt him groping for me—for us. After Jezikan left, he noticed me. It was the only thing I could do...when he touched me, I sent him into himself. Into the moment he reached for me, and he took himself instead."

"So he put himself into his own nightmares." Zell sounded too solemn to be himself as he surveyed the shattered man. "Is he going to get out of them?"

Ellone shook her head, her breath hitching in her throat.

"You did right, Sis," Irvine said. "You had to do it, to save us. Thank you." He helped Ellone to her feet. As he did so, the floor thrummed, and lemon-yellow lights glowed to life up and down the hall.

"They must have gotten emergency power working—" Selphie exclaimed, and then an alarm began wailing, much louder than the distant klaxons on the Galbadian vessels.

"Is that a good sign or a bad one?" Irvine wondered aloud, wincing at the siren's shrieks.

"Depends on what the alert's for," Quistis answered. "Jezikan's gone—I guess she had plenty of opportunity to escape. If she set it off we might be in for a battle."

"We're going to be in for one anyway," Rinoa said grimly. She couldn't identify the power prickling her spine, but it was oddly familiar, and unmistakably dangerous. "We better regroup with the others and find out what's happened."

"Hey, maybe Squall's snapped out of it, like we did," Zell suggested.

"I hope so," Rinoa replied, ignoring Ellone's negative shake of the head. Then she pushed both the wish and its denial to the back of her mind, alone with any thought of the nightmare Dahl had thrust her within. Of her questions, some might be answered upon returning to the Garden. The rest were better unasked.

 

* * *

In the darkness of night, the Pandora eclipsing the moon, and amid the transports coming and leaving Fisherman's Horizon and the Gardens, no one noticed the small, single-man vessel which detached from one of FH's side ports. It sent no charted itinerary to the central computer on the Galbadian fleet ship, and had anyone been watching, they would not have believed its destination. No one was mad enough to fly undefended into the mouth of the beast. Yet the vessel did not swerve in its course, directly toward the giant, inky silhouette of the Lunatic Pandora.


	9. Queen Sacrifice

With Ferdid dead, Jezikan and Dahl missing, and the shadow of the Lunatic Pandora darkening Fisherman's Horizon, panic ruled the Galbadian troops. The SeeD present were barely more at ease; only the citizens of FH were capable of dealing calmly with the danger. Methodically they began re-organizing their city, taking advantage of the upheaval to expunge Galbadian officers from places of power by excuse of their superior knowledge of their defenses. For the most part the soldiers were happy to let someone else handle the problem while they found secure places to hide.

As if any of it would do any good, if the Pandora did bring down a Lunar Cry.

Kiros set his jaw, determined not to allow his teeth to chatter. His blood was running cold enough that his frozen state could be mistaken for icy calm. "You're sure you can control that thing?" he demanded again of Odine.

The doctor shook his head. "Not certain, no, but the theory is sound. The equipment is in my lab here, as I say, all I should need."

"That's why we're taking you to it," Kiros said. "It had just better work." Beside him, Ward grunted agreement. They picked up the pace, escorting the doctor through FH. Citizens strode past, intent on crucial errands, while Galbadian soldiers scurried here and there like ants revealed under a displaced stone. If summoning the Pandora had been the Galbadians' plan, as Odine insisted it was, then they should have prepared for it better. At least informed their troops. But then, Kiros recalled, the Galbadians had never been very competent with their army. They had made Laguna a captain, after all.

He so accustomed to dodging people that he wasn't looking at faces, and therefore almost missed who he nearly rammed into while turning a corner. A brief glance at the owner of the red boots stopped him dead in his tracks. "Quistis!"

"Kiros?" She also paused to take in him, Ward, and the doctor.

Kiros in turn observed those accompanying her. "Rinoa, thank the Brothers!" He spotted the fair, limp stranger slung over Zell's shoulder. "Who's that? Where's Jezikan?"

"That's Lord Dahl, but he's out of the picture now," Quistis explained hurriedly. "Jezikan got away, we don't know where."

"What's going on up there?" Rinoa demanded. "We've been searching for the quickest way up, but lots of passages are closed off. Is Jezikan—"

"Worse," Kiros grimly replied. "The Lunatic Pandora's right outside. With luck Doc Odine here might be able to do something about it, but Cid and Xu are firing up Galbadian Garden to evacuate FH, in case he fails. And Laguna's gone back to Balamb Garden—" He stopped, then realized there was no easy way to put it. "We got a communication from your Dr. Kodowaki. Squall's condition is deteriorating."

All four SeeD made identical soft exclamations, and Ellone pulled her sweater tight around her shoulders. Rinoa was silent, steadier than Kiros would have expected, but he caught the pain that flashed through her eyes, cutting to her soul. "How bad—" she whispered, then steeled herself. "The Pandora—is it still coming? What can we do?"

Quistis stepped in front of her. "You and Ellone can go back to Squall—that's where you need to be. Kiros, can you take them? Zell, go with Ward to help him guard Odine and keep us informed how that goes; Irvine, Selphie, and I will see where Cid wants us." She looked them all over. "Okay?"

"Not hardly," Zell muttered. "But it's not like we have a choice. Let's go."

 

* * *

Squall had not moved a degree since Rinoa had left his bedside. But his face seemed paler, closed eyes sunken further into blue shadow. There was a cast of death to his stillness that could not be countered by the slow rise and fall of his chest, and his skin seemed cooler to the touch.

Laguna, seated beside his son, looked hardly better off. Dark patches gathered beneath his eyes, and his motionless vigilance erased his usual boyish energy, making him appear even older than his true years. Rinoa knew Squall sometimes doubted his father felt anything more than casual affection for him. She could not help but think that he would see the truth, if only he would awaken now.

"We can't keep him on life support forever," Dr. Kodowaki told them quietly. "He's failing on us, and every minute his chances go down. Ellone, do you have any idea—"

"I think I understand," Ellone said, even softer than the doctor. "I felt what Dahl was trying to do to me. It's more than drawing nightmares over people. If someone is killed in mind, in spirit, then their body can't survive. That's why Squall didn't wake up when Dahl was stopped. In his mind, he's already..."

"But if the body's alive, the person's alive," Dr. Kodowaki said. "There's been no damage to the brain; I've never heard of a case—"

"There's more to a spirit than the brain it resides within. The mind only knows what it perceives, not what actually occurs. When I send people to the past, it's only their minds which move. But they _are_ there, no matter where their bodies are. It's reality, for them."

"You mean..." Laguna raised his head, slowly, as if it were weighted. "You're saying Squall is dying because his mind thinks he's dead?"

"Possibly."

"That's crazy," Laguna said flatly. Then sighed. "But if you're right, how..."

"We can get him back," Rinoa stated fiercely. "Dr. Kodowaki said it. If his body's alive, then Squall is too, somewhere, somehow. We just have to find him and tell him that he's not dead."

Kiros opened his mouth, probably to repeat Laguna's previous comment, but decided better of it and shut it again. Rinoa whirled toward the other young woman. "Ellone, can you send me into Squall, like you tried before? Now you know what Dahl did, maybe you can do it."

"I don't...I'm not sure," Ellone murmured. "I...can try." She bowed her head, the air seeming to thicken around her with the intensity of her concentration. Rinoa felt it reaching, the unmistakable sensation pulling at herself, an inner draw, nothing like the magic yet just as persuasively, powerfully attractive.

Then it cut her free, sudden as a snapped cord. She caught her breath, heard Ellone gasp with shock at the release. She looked up to see Ellone's eyes meet her own, dark hazel liquid with tears. "I can't reach him," the other woman whispered. "I can't find him. There's nothing to bring you to."

"Then don't!" Rinoa pushed herself to her feet, and found her legs shakier than she expected. She steadied herself with a hand on the back of her chair. "Don't try to find him, Ellone. Just put me there—"

"I can't." Ellone almost sobbed. "It doesn't work like that for me. Dahl sought out people, contacted them. I only connect them—I can be a bridge, but I can't just—just grab people and throw them into others."

"Are you sure?" Laguna stood. "Elle, _could_ you do what Dahl can, if you tried? If you had a good enough handle on someone, if they reached for you when you reached for them—maybe it would work."

Ellone blinked. "What do you mean..."

Laguna took her by the shoulders, bright green eyes wide and intense. "You told me once that last year, when you sent Squall into Rinoa, you couldn't have done it if you hadn't known Squall so well. You didn't know Rinoa well enough yourself, but it was easier to send him than someone else, right? Because it was Squall. Well, you know me that well. Try sending _me_ into him."

"I can't!" Ellone gasped. "I can't—you didn't feel it. What it was like, trying to reach Squall—it's so empty. There's nothing there, nothing of him to find—"

"We won't know for sure until we've really looked."

"It sounds dangerous," Kiros remarked, stepping forward.

Laguna cocked his head, not smiling. "Yeah, I'm guessing it is."

Ellone's head was down, her short hair veiling her eyes. "I don't...it could kill you. I might make you like him, Uncle Laguna, and I don't know—I don't even know if I can—"

"It's all right." He held her hands and squeezed. "You just got to try, as hard as you can, Ellone. Please?"

She glanced up at him, and something in his gaze caught her, like a rabbit paralyzed by a poacher's flash. Slowly she nodded.

"Okay." Laguna turned to his minister. "Kiros? You'll be President, if anything happens to me. That is, if Esthar will listen to you. I'm pretty sure they would. They already do anyway. Say good-bye to Ward for me too, please. If I don't come back or anything."

Kiros made a quick bow. "You got it," he pledged. Then he clasped Laguna's shoulder, cleared his throat and said thickly, "You better be careful, my man."

"Aren't I always?" Laguna grinned for an instant, then took up Ellone's hands again as he sat her and himself down on the bedside chairs. "All right, Elle. I'm ready."

"Good luck," Rinoa whispered.

Laguna winked at her, then shut his eyes as Ellone began.

 

* * *

"'It's missing'?!" Zell exploded. He felt like he had been posed on a knife's edge since Squall had collapsed, and every subsequent blow staggered his balance a little more. Mental images of the Lunatic Pandora bearing down on them, flattening the Gardens and FH in its path, were not helping his patience in the slightest. "What do you mean, _'it'_? Your control thingie for the Pandora?"

"No. That is right here." But Dr. Odine's tone was far from comforting. "However, if she has the pendant, this might as well be a pile of scrap circuits."

"Who's 'she'? Jezikan? What pendant? What are you talking about?"

"She must have taken it," the doctor continued, ignoring the SeeD. "I had not realized she was so perceptive...or so foolish... Stupid woman, even if Odine's pendant works as expected, it will mean the destruction of more than just yourself—" Still muttering, he bent over his device, fiddling urgently even as he shook his head.

Ward rumbled. Reaching for the radio to alert the others, Zell threw the Esthar minister a look over the doctor's hunched shoulders. "I'm with you there three times over, man. I've got a bad, bad, _bad_ feeling about this."

 

* * *

With every step she took, the jewel around her neck glowed a little brighter. A pity there were no witnesses to admire how the green glow set off her eyes, her fiery hair.

Jezikan craned her neck to admire the pendant's scintillating glitter. In the shimmering emerald light she could see the power itself, could almost feel it when she ran her fingers over the ice-smooth facets, like water washing over her hands. Was this what it was like for _her_, for the girl sorceress? That brilliance, only inside, so it filled the heart and pulsed in the blood like embers. This was power as she had never experienced it before. To rule men, as Ferdid had, ineptly but with acknowledged authority, there was desirable strength in that, a strength she had wielded herself. To rule over life and death, over dreams themselves as Dahl was capable, she had yearned for that, to know how it was to peer into another's soul and be its master.

But this...to hold the energy of existence in her hand, and know it to be hers to manipulate...this was what she had truly wanted. A force so great as to be untouchable, beyond any danger, above any mandate. She walked through the frozen caverns of the Lunatic Pandora, and the ice walls seemed to sing to her, a song of marvelous, unbridled might, which resonated in the crystal pendant around her neck, and through the soul of her being. Her power to take. She would master the Pandora, and with it the world.

They would witness it, all those who had cursed her, all those who had obliterated her family and destroyed her name, her reputation, everything that had meant anything to her once. They had tried to destroy her, but she had been reborn, had created herself from nothing to rise to the presidency, or as close as she was able. And now she would be born again, the magical third birth, from which she would emerge the queen of the world. They would see her on the Pandora's throne—the few of them who still lived. They would see her power and know they meant nothing to her. Not then, not when she held everything in her hand as easily as she grasped the pendant now.

She heard a scuffle, twisted around and fired the kill-beam clutched in her other hand. By pure chance she hit her target; the laser drilled a pencil-thin shaft between the imp's muddled, bloodshot eyes. Its gibbering holler echoed through the passage after its corpse had tumbled to the icy floor.

Skirting its still bulk, she continued up the tunnel. The gun was steady in her hand, but no other creature attacked. The Lunatic Pandora recognized its master.

At last she emerged in the central grotto, where the Crystal Pillar rose up through the floor, impossibly huge and dark. But its blackness was strung through with veins of brilliance, flashing in time with the glowing of the stone around her neck. As she approached the bands brightened, illuminating the intricate pattern of fissures that guided the magical energy stored within. Multicolored light ran like blood through the pillar's clear depths, until the whole crystal shone with its vitality.

It pulled her closer, a pure, instinctual magnetism more charismatic than any man's. She pressed one hand to the glassy surface, both cool and warm, hard and solid yet simultaneously giving and flexible. Her fingers sank into the substance, transparent and so perfectly smooth she hardly could tell they were engulfed, but for the pressure against the back of her hand, and the brightening of the pendant to a blinding radiance.

Unnerved, she yanked her hand free. It released her without obstruction. She stared at the luminous, unmarred plane. And understood.

Perhaps that was why this had failed before. No sorceress could sacrifice her own power to give herself entirely over to this creation. For centuries it had waited, for millennia, for her to come, without the magic, only the will. One with the strength to accept its most terrible gift without resistance.

The pendant burned with verdant flame, scorching her breast. Jezikan sank against the living glass, and surrendered herself to the heart of the Lunatic Pandora.

 

* * *

Laguna slumped so suddenly Rinoa nearly didn't leap forward in time to support him. Kiros assisted her in laying the president down on the other bed. He was as quiescent as Squall; in repose the resemblance between their faces was undeniable, and the cessation of consciousness was as disturbing in the father as in the son. At least there was no sign in Laguna of the pain that had twisted Squall's face when he had first fallen.

Ellone sat stiffly upright in her chair, her eyes mostly closed and her lips barely parted as she breathed, immersed in concentration.

Kiros examined them closely, his friend and his friend's foster daughter, both caught up in the same spell which had swallowed Squall, and frowned. "I guess now we wait."

Rinoa nodded, not trusting her voice. She wished she had some of the faith Irvine had spoken of, belief in gods, in the power of prayer. But deities were only manifestations of the magic she had within herself, other forms of the sorceress powers, the same energy of the Lunatic Pandora which threatened now. No more reliable than any strength, only as dependable as those who wielded it.

That was what it always came down to, in the end. The people, those with the strength, the abilities, the influence to change the fate of the world, for good or ill. That was all there was. Faith in people. She believed in Laguna, believed in Ellone. And always in Squall. She could do nothing more now. It had to be enough, since it was all she had.

Obscurely comforted by that realization, the events of the past days catching up with her, Rinoa was drifting off into a half-sleep, when a shock cut through her consciousness like a burning arrow. She was on her feet in an instant, the chair clattering to the floor.

Kiros scrambled up with her, grabbed her arm. "Rinoa? What's wrong?"

"I don't know." She looked at Squall, at Laguna and Ellone. All still motionless, nothing changed. The danger she felt, pricking at her nerves like insect stings, wasn't here. "Stay here, watch them," she asked him. "I'm going to the bridge, I need to see it."

"See what?" he demanded.

And then the eastern windows of the medical bay lit up, as if dawn were coming a few hours too soon. Amber luminance filled the room with sharp shadows.

"That," Rinoa said quietly, and pointed outside to where, half a mile away, the once-black Lunatic Pandora was shining like a new sun, the Crystal Pillar blazing gold up and down its towering height.

 

* * *

He had expected blackness. Instead he found himself in a void so complete even darkness was impossible, too substantial to exist in this emptiness.

He had been prepared for the dark. This was worse, far worse. It took conscious effort just to realize he was here, was still existing. _I am Laguna Loire. I am Laguna Loire and I have come to save my son_.

He tried to shout Squall's name, but there was no voice, no sound at all, without air. He would have suffocated, if he still had lungs.

Darkness he could have taken. There was nothing, and that was more terrifying than he could have imagined.

But he was here, occupying the emptiness, and he could not be alone. Squall was here, somewhere. It was only a matter of finding him. Piercing the void until he reached what lived beyond it.

How does one pierce nothing?

Love, friendship, courage, he had told them. It had worked for them before, seen them through the trial of time compression. Laguna closed his eyes—he had no lids to lower, no eyes to see—he closed his eyes anyway. Shut them tight and concentrated. He conjured Squall's image in his mind, as if he could summon him with thought alone. Perhaps he could. What else was there, in this non-place?

Raine's son. His son. That he could have a child, that he could have any part in the existence of a life not his own, still sent a thrill of amazement through him. Amazement, and pride. And that it was Squall...

His son looked like him, the spitting image, they all said, though Laguna couldn't see it, quite. Maybe in some of the lines of the face—but his eyes, sea-gray, storm-gray eyes, those were Raine's, calm as the eye of a hurricane, deeper than the very ocean. And in them Raine's courage, Raine's strength, that Laguna could never hope to possess.

Yet still...Squall was his as much as Raine's. His child by blood. Ellone was the daughter of his heart, never to be forgotten, but Squall was his son. There was love in that, absolutely immutable. Armed with it now, he reached into the abyss.

He felt it pour into him, that emptiness. He was awash in a sea of the void, drowning in an utter vacuum. The nothing filled his mind, impossibly, driving back memory, intelligence, consciousness. All thought of Squall blasted away—any thought vanquished. He strove to catch the shards of himself...

_I am Laguna Loire_.

He was in the void again. No, outside of it. Not a part of it. Illusions danced liked ghosts on the fringes of his perception. Squall standing before him—not really. Only a projection of his own thoughts, his own hope. He was nowhere near his son's own, true being. That lay within the void...but to enter the void was to lose even those visions, the last remnants of memory.

Losing himself, the danger Ellone had warned him of. As Squall had been lost, on the border between death and oblivion. Being lost to the void himself was not nearly so terrifying to Laguna as knowing Squall was here, abandoned, alone, without even hope to hold onto.

It had to be possible to cross that boundary. Through nothing to the life still within, somewhere. Life gave life. Two lives could hold onto one another, find one another and then find the way back together. If they found each other, then neither would be lost. If they found each other.

Love, friendship, and courage. Whatever he had. Whatever it took. Squall was his son.

Braced with that affirmation, Laguna re-entered the void. And gave himself to the nothingness.

 

* * *

"So this pendant replicates a Sorceress's magic?"

"No, no, not precisely, though, theoretically, the, the principles are s-s-similar..." Dr. Odine wrung his hands, stuttering like a Shumi with the desperation of putting his knowledge into foreign words. He stared nervously around at the SeeD surrounding him. Quistis appeared the calmest, so he entreated her, "It was not meant to be this way, you understand. If Jezikan indeed used it as we suspect, as the evidence suggests—"

"Evidence? You mean _that_?" Zell threw his hands in the direction of the brilliant Lunatic Pandora, casting a golden aurora around the dish of Fisherman's Horizon. The SeeD and the scientist had climbed to the near rim to observe the phenomenon, and for Odine to verify its cause. And its effect, which according to all theory was far from desirable. "Jezikan stole the pendant and turned that thing on!" the blond SeeD accused.

"In a manner of speaking...well, yes," Odine agreed shakily. "The pendant has the effect—this is all theoretical, you understand, I had not the opportunity to test—"

"What does it do?" Selphie demanded.

"The pendant should, theoretically, alter the aura of a normal, that is, non-magical personage, so that they will appear to have, to most techniques of measurement, the aura of a Sorceress," Odine said, all in a rush. "You realize even I have not the expertise to recreate the actual and true magic of a Sorceress, but in my studies I learned how an ordinary ki may be manipulated to reproduce a similar frequency to—"

"So in other words, with the pendant, Jezikan looks like a Sorceress to the Pandora. Meaning it'll obey her commands." Irvine rarely looked so grim. "Not good."

"Your control device doesn't work at all?" Quistis asked.

Odine shook his head. "Worthless. Absolutely worthless, if ever it functioned. I had not the opportunity to test that, either. But..." He hesitated. "There may not be a fear. The Lunatic Pandora does not merely serve a Sorceress; it draws power from her. Jezikan has not the life energy to sustain it for any length of time—"

"It's too late."

They all spun around. Rinoa hopped off the final step of the ladder and landed beside them, boots clanging on the rim's metal deck. Her face was as serious as ever they had seen it. "Kiros has spoken with Esthar's scientists. According to the observations of their orbital station, a Lunar Cry has already started forming on the moon. It'll fall within the next forty-eight hours, and it's coming down here. FH will be destroyed for sure."

"Two days should be enough time to evacuate everyone—" Quistis began.

"Those you can get to leave," Irvine murmured. "Some won't give up."

Rinoa shook her head. "It gets worse. The Pandora's on the move, according to Esthar. It's already in motion, accelerating very slowly. And the lunar monsters will follow it. All the way to Galbadia, straight to Deling City. Even without Jezikan's guidance, it'll keep on going. And bring the tail of the Cry with it."

"A Lunar Cry...over Deling City?" Irvine blanched. "But everything in the area will be hit—and they won't listen to a warning from us or Esthar, not until it's too late—"

"The Pandora won't reach Galbadia," Rinoa said. "Or attack FH. I'm going to stop it."

They stared. "You?" Selphie said finally. "Rinoa, how—"

"Of course!" Odine exclaimed. "The Sorceress, yes, the Pandora would obey the Sorceress. Such it was constructed for. But...but." He swung his head from side to side in a definite negative. "Even with your power, once begun the Cry will not end until it has come to the Pandora."

The SeeD were still disbelieving. "Rinoa," Quistis said, "you're a Sorceress, yes, but you've never controlled the Pandora before. When we sank it last year Squall piloted it, like Seifer had—it's something Knights can do, right? But it wasn't fully activated then. How are you—"

"I don't know yet." For the first time a crack of uncertainty showed in Rinoa's determination. "But I'm a Sorceress, and the Pandora was made for us. When I'm inside it I'll know what to do. I think." She drew a breath. "That's why I'm here—I need help. I can't fly to it on my own; the winds around it are too strong for me to handle. If one of you could pilot a craft—"

"I can," Selphie instantly volunteered.

"I'm coming too," Zell said, so quickly as to give no chance to be contradicted. "If Jezikan brought backup you might need help."

"This is going to be dangerous—" Rinoa began.

"Exactly." Zell nodded. "So I'm coming."

"Rinoa—" Quistis began, then stopped. "Rinoa, what about Squall?" she said instead.

The other girl's face tightened, the resolute mask hardening a little more. "Laguna and Ellone are helping him." She reached out, caught Quistis's arm. "Quistis, I don't know if there's anything you can do, but if—if you can—" Her mask slipped for an instant, and Quistis caught the fear in her eyes. Rinoa might be putting all her spirit and will into whatever her plan was with the Pandora, but her heart remained where it always was, with the missing of their number lying in Balamb Garden's infirmary.

"Whatever I can," Quistis promised, and Rinoa smiled faintly before vaulting down the ladder after Zell.

"Good luck!" Irvine called. Selphie gave him a thumbs' up, then followed the others down.

 

* * *

_I am..._

_I am Laguna Loire, President of Esthar..._

_I am Laguna Loire, President..._

_I am Laguna Loire..._

_I am Laguna..._

_I am..._

_I..._

Drifting away. Currents, wind, gravity, pulling everything asunder. Memories sank below, floated above. Out of reach. Entropy mastered life.

_I..._

Beyond birth and death, past order, past chaos, before the very beginning and after the very end.

_I..._

Nothing.

Duty lost, knowledge lost, desire lost, self lost. There was no _am_; there was no _I_. Not here, not now, and this was everywhere, for all time. Lost, and so they both were lost, and so he would not be saved...

Failure—but there was no self to fail. Courage gone. Friendship gone.

_**Squall is my son**!_

And the void was gone.

The land was so barren it hardly could be termed a desert. A blank, sunless sky stretched over uncountable miles of wasteland, sprinkled with sand and jagged stone, without a single sign of vegetation or fauna.

But at least it wasn't nothing. Laguna nodded to himself. "Better." He was standing on the colorless earth, breathing the dry, dusty air. No matter that it was all in his mind, just a trick of perception. He had form again, a coherent line of thought—as much as his thoughts ever were coherent, he could almost hear Kiros comment. He could feel the ground under his boots, the wind ruffling his hair. He wore his favorite blue jacket—where had that disappeared to? He hadn't worn it for years. One of Esthar's officials had probably deemed it uncouth and tossed it. But now it fit loosely around his shoulders, worn and comfortable. He brushed dust from the collar and risked a grin. "Much better."

He scanned the area, and noticed scuffles in the gray sand. Footprints. The tread of a familiar boot. At least, so they appeared, and appearances were everything here.

Head down, eyes on the rocky ground, Laguna started walking along the faint tracks toward the featureless, impossibly distant horizon.

 

* * *

"Hang on!" Selphie had to yell over the roar of wind buffeting their craft. With all the strength in her petite frame she wrenched the stick to the right, tipping the flyer starboard. It swooped skyward as its stubby wings caught the updraft, its passengers clinging with both hands to their seats as they were thrown against the straps. "Sorry!" Selphie shouted. "This'd be easier in the Ragnarok!"

The Lunatic Pandora loomed before them, brilliant and enormous, surrounded by the vortex of whirling air pummeling the flyer. A single crevice was barely visible in the shining wall before them. Fighting with the wind to align the craft with the narrow opening, Selphie shoved the stick forward, then gunned the boosters, rocketing them through the turbulence. Zell shut his eyes. Rinoa hung on grimly and watched the wide, flat expanse of the Pandora's side grow in the windshield.

At Selphie's quick motion, the flyer tilted, dipping down to slide neatly into the mouth of the tunnel. Firing the retrothrusters, she jerked them to a halt, then cut the engines. The craft settled with a bump on the icy cave floor.

"Sorry about that landing," Selphie apologized again. "I'm out of practice with these things."

"We're alive?" Zell opened his eyes. "We're alive!" he cried triumphantly, pumping his fists in the air. He eagerly unbuckled himself and sprang from his chair, heading for the hatch, only to be brought up short by Rinoa's pale face. "Rinoa? You okay?"

Selphie was at her side in an instant, helping undo her straps. "Did you bang your head?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm...fine." Rinoa stood shakily.

"Yeah, right." Zell looped his arm around her shoulders to stabilize her. "It's this place, isn't it. You're reacting to it."

"You shouldn't be here if it hurts you," Selphie said. "We can take care of Jezikan—"

"No." Rinoa pushed away from Zell and opened the hatch. Before stepping outside she clutched the side of the exit and willed herself steady. She wasn't dizzy, precisely, but there was a strange disorientation, as if she were seeing out of more than her own eyes, standing on more than the floor of the craft under her feet. She felt the Pandora around her, and the ice and stone spoke to her without language.

Almost unconscious she was moving, she strode out of the craft and started down the tunnel, called by the power around her resonating with the power in her blood. Only peripherally did she register Zell and Selphie hurrying to catch up, assuming protective positions on either side of her. When the corridor branched off in three directions she chose the one on the left without breaking her stride, following directions burned into her mind.

The strange, flickering brilliance which lit the crystal caverns from the inside glowed brighter as they neared the core. "Where's the monsters?" Selphie wondered. "We fought imps everywhere last time we were in here."

"I don't like this," Zell muttered, as light poured through veins of color within the ice overhead. "What are we gonna do when we find Jezikan? What if she's got protection?"

"She doesn't," Rinoa said.

"How do you know?" Zell grabbed her arm when she didn't answer, yanking her off her stride. She stumbled and tugged away, but he didn't let go. "Rinoa, what's this place doing to you?" He studied her intently. "Me and Selphie are getting worried. I mean, this is your thing as Sorceress and all, but it's definitely weirding you out."

Rinoa glared at Zell, and saw not anger but honest concern in his blue eyes, mirrored in Selphie's. She exhaled a shuddering breath, forcing aside the need pulling at her spirit. "I'm sorry. This is...it's not what I was expecting." She closed her eyes, concentrated on putting infused knowledge into words. "Jezikan is alone, in the center of the Pandora. We're almost there."

Her friends didn't question, followed her willingly down the passage. They remained silent until they crossed the crystalline bridge at the end of the tunnel, and entered the core of the Lunatic Pandora. Though they had been here before, fought here before—fought Adel, for her sake—Rinoa heard Selphie and Zell both gasp.

The chamber's translucent walls curved smoothly around them, a womb illuminated by magical energies wavering like colored flames. In the center the Crystal Pillar, the Pandora's heart, burned with pure power. Barely visible floating within that fire was a smudged shadow, a silhouette of a human form curled into fetal position.

Rinoa remembered standing here once before, Seifer shoving her toward that fiery heart, that glorious prison from which the Sorceress Adel reached for her. She could clearly recall every line of the evil ecstasy in the Sorceress's face, but the memory brought none of the terror she had felt then. Without a twinge of fear, she laid her hands on the glowing pillar.

Under her touch, the crystal pulsed like a living animal. The silhouette within shifted, uncoiled, then moved forward, not with its limbs but as if propelled by a force from behind, pushing toward Rinoa. Its arms and legs were spread like a star's points, its back arched and head thrown back.

"Rinoa!" Selphie whispered anxiously. Zell, not quite panicking, pulled Rinoa back. She retreated without protest, and grouped tightly together by the entrance the three of them watched as the figure was pressed against the inner wall of the pillar, flexible translucency distending over the human form.

Then it broke. The freed figure collapsed to the shimmering floor on hands and knees. Trembling with effort, it pushed itself up, sitting with its back to the now-solid crystal.

Rinoa felt the shock of recognition arc through her friends, though they must have guessed. Rinoa herself had known with certainty who it was, but even she was momentarily struck mute by the sight.

The lady's garments were as rich as ever, the lace trim and expensive silk of the loose blouse and pants untouched. But her body... All hair had been burned away, auburn locks, brows, even her lashes, and her bare scalp was streaked with vivid scarlet scorching. Her skin was shiny, like newly-cast plastic, pulled so tightly over the skull it seemed as though the cheekbones would pierce the taut membrane. Were it not for her eyes, glittering feverishly but still a striking indigo, she would not be recognizable. She was no longer a woman, was not even human; she was like a caricature of a living being.

Around her scarred neck, a small pendant flashed green, throbbing like a heartbeat. Her head slowly swiveled toward them, twisting independently of her torso. The delirious eyes met theirs; the cracked lips contorted in a paroxysm of a smile.

"Jezikan Deling," Rinoa breathed. "_What have you done?_ **What have you done!!**" She was screaming. She was enraged, strangely not by what Jezikan threatened with the Pandora, nor what she had inflicted on Squall, but fury that anyone would do such a thing as this, that someone would willingly become this travesty of life, for any reason.

And only for power...

The disfigured mouth opened, spoke in an unvoiced hiss. "Sorceresssss...." Her mad stare lit on Rinoa, and the creature began to choke, throat working in labored wheezes. Jezikan was laughing. "It falls! You feel it. It fallsssss..."

The Lunar Cry. And she could feel it. Standing here in the heart of the Pandora, she sensed the pull its power exerted on her increased a hundred-fold for the magic monsters of the moon. They could no more resist it than a fallen stone could contest gravity. Jezikan was barely alive, but the call was already initiated. Her death would stop nothing. Once begun, the Lunar Cry would come to the Pandora. Nowhere in the world would be safe from that summons.

And Rinoa understood what was necessary, as she had known from her first sight of the Lunatic Pandora over Fisherman's Horizon.

She ignored the crumpled remains of the woman before them, turned to her friends. "Selphie. Zell."

They looked to her immediately, their eyes hopeful, faces frightened but resolute. She put a hand on each of their shoulders. "You have to leave. Now. Go back to Balamb Garden."

"Rinoa—" they both demanded at once.

She cut them off. "Selphie, fly carefully. The winds will be worse, but I'll give you as much time to get away as I can. You have to make it."

"Stop it, Rinoa, you're coming with us," Zell said, desperately. "Come on, we gotta move it—"

"I'm not going." Rinoa shook her head. " I'm the Sorceress."

"This isn't your responsibility!" Zell shouted. "It's not your fault, it's hers!" He gestured vehemently to Jezikan. "We're gonna get out of here, and find a way to stop the Pandora, all of us. Like we did before!"

"This is a way. The only way."

Selphie had her hand to her mouth, her eyes bright with water. "It's your worst plan," she said softly. "All your others were a lot better, Rinoa."

Rinoa tried to smile, and found to her surprise that she could. "Yes, but this one will actually work."

"What about Squall?" demanded Zell. "What are we gonna tell him when he wakes up?"

His fists were clenched, but before he could draw back Rinoa put her arms around him, pressing her face to his shoulder. "You have to tell him," she whispered, holding on tightly. "Tell him I'm sorry. Please, Zell."

She felt him shudder. Then he muttered, hoarsely, "Okay," and wrapped his arms around her, squeezed once with all his formidable strength before letting go.

When he released her, she rose onto her toes to kiss his forehead. "Thank you."

Zell twisted away, his head down. Rinoa took Selphie's hands. "Selphie, fly well. Don't—"

"We'll be fine," Selphie said. "Promise. SeeD's honor." Not waiting, she flung her arms around Rinoa, and murmured in her ear, "But you be careful, too. For Squall and all of us. Promise?"

Rinoa hugged her back, promising, "I'll try my best." She lowered her voice. "And, Selphie, tell Irvine this was the best time on the merry-go-round I've ever had."

Still facing her friends, she stepped back, away from them, toward the center of the room. "Hurry," she said. Then, "Goodbye." And turning around, she walked toward the Crystal Pillar.

Behind her she listened to their footsteps leave the chamber and cross the bridge. Not daring to look back, she kept moving her legs forward until she reached the pillar.

Jezikan canted her head back to watch, her neck arched at an impossibly angle. White teeth glittered between her shredded lips. "You...can't...none...can...ssstop..."

"I have to try," Rinoa answered. She reached down, dared touch the broken woman's shoulder. Through the fabric of her blouse her blistered flesh burned hot. The pendant's flashes were slowing, pulse becoming erratic.

"I'm sorry," the young Sorceress whispered. Then she again put her hands to the pillar. The smooth facet gave under her touch, and she allowed herself to melt into the embrace of its warm, brilliant light.

 

* * *

On the SeeD's orders, Ward brought Odine to Balamb Garden. He was accompanied by Quistis and Irvine, bearing the comatose Lord Dahl. Dr. Kodowaki supervised his placement on an available bed. From what the others said, the lord might never rise from it. Kiros wouldn't shed any tears over Dahl's fate, but the pale man's catalepsy too closely resembled that of Laguna and his son. Ellone moved a little, mouth opening as if she were trying to speak. But Squall and Laguna were still as death. And that observation was eating away at the spirits of their friends, taking a bigger toll than the looming threat of the Pandora.

The SeeD were incredible, he had to admit. Especially considering their youth. Kiros knew he himself hadn't been that mature when he was twice their age; he easily forgot he was old enough to be their father when he worked with them. At nineteen, Quistis Trepe kept her head in a crisis better than anyone he had ever met. Now she was on Dr. Kodowaki's 'com, calmly ordering the SeeD of the Garden to prepare for the evacuation of FH, her sharply beautiful face composed as she read off squadron assignments.

Then, pausing between commands, she glanced over to Squall's bed and bit her bottom lip, and looked just like a child in need of a cuddle, except for the too-adult heartbreak in her crystal blue eyes.

Kiros wanted to give her some comforting word, but there wasn't time, and he had none as it were. He settled instead for continuing with his interrogation, trying to glean whatever helpful information he could from their prisoner.

He wished he still had his katal. It had been years since he had wielded them; the arts of war were unbecoming to an Esthar minister. But he desperately wanted his old blades now, to have a go at carving that ingenuous obstinacy off Dr. Odine's squat face.

"I can do nothing!" the doctor insisted.

Which was so ironic he nearly choked. "What about all this?" Kiros waved toward Laguna and Squall and Ellone, to Lord Dahl comatose on the other bed, then widened his gesture to encompass the Lunatic Pandora outside. "You created Dahl, you brought the Pandora here—how could one man do so much evil?"

Odine blinked at him. "Much evil, you say? What do I care of evil, or good for that matter? Zis is science!"

"Wrong—science is putting knowledge to the test. This is just going to be disaster, if you don't figure out how to use what you know. How can we stop the Pandora?—what the hell?" Breaking off his question, Kiros grabbed for the nearby bedframe as the Garden rocked under his feet, bucking like a recalcitrant horse.

He heard Dr. Kodowaki exclaim as a couple loose bottles slid from her desk to shatter on the floor, and Quistis shout a query at the bridge. The quaking ceased as suddenly as it began, and in the subsequent silence he made out Nida's response. "We're not taking off—a deep-sea tsunami just hit us."

"From where?" Quistis demanded.

There was a short pause. "The Lunatic Pandora, apparently," the pilot finally answered. "It's rising."

Kiros's gaze went automatically to the window, and saw the Pandora, its luminance beginning to be washed out by the coming dawn, still hovering over the sea. "It doesn't seem to be moving."

"Slow acceleration," Quistis said. "It's so big you can't tell until it's really speeding. Nida, where's it going?"

"No clue on its trajectory yet," the pilot reported. "I'll keep you informed."

"Wonder if Esthar's noticed this yet," Kiros said. "What could've fired it up now?"

"Oh no."

Quistis sat down, so abruptly Kiros went to her side in concern, leaving Odine gaping at the Pandora out the window. He laid a hand on her shoulder, asked, "What's wrong?" and grimaced as he did so at the absurd inadequacy of the question.

Quistis wisely didn't give any of the dozen appropriate answers, instead leaned forward and grabbed for the 'com again. "Selphie, Zell, come in. Are you there? Selphie—" Her voice was still level, but he could feel her trembling under his hand.

The 'com crackled to life. "We're here," Selphie replied, so subdued Kiros was hard-pressed to identify her voice. "We're on our way back to the Garden, Zell and me. But Rinoa—Quistis, Rinoa's still on the Pandora."

Quistis jerked. "Did she—is she doing what we considered before?"

"She's trying," Selphie said. "She thought she had to—we tried to stop her, Quistis, we tried, but—"

The 'com chimed as someone else broke into the conversation. "Quistis," Nida asked, "Esthar's on the radio, looking for Laguna or Kiros—"

"I'll take it," Kiros said, quickly entering his code.

"Minister Seagul," the caller said, and Kiros recognized one of their chief scientists, though his usually stodgy voice was peevish with stress, "can you possibly tell us what's happening there on site? We've just picked up an impressive energy spike from the Lunatic Pandora, and if our preliminary observations are correct, the lunar entities are responding to it as well, though it is too early to—"

He had had entirely too much of scientists lately. "I'll let you know soon as I figure it out myself," Kiros said, and cut the connection. More gently he addressed Quistis. "So what is going on?"

Quistis's cheeks were pale enough to make her golden hair look brunette. "We discussed it before," she said. "When we were debating whether to sink the Pandora, or try to destroy it, or do something else. There was another solution, but Squall—we couldn't risk it. Rinoa..." She swallowed, looked up and met his eyes resolutely, nerving herself. "Rinoa's merged with the Pandora, as a Sorceress can, to control it."

"To do what? Where's she going with it?"

Her gaze was intent on his, unyielding enough to make him flinch. "She's stopping the Lunar Cry—she's taking the Pandora to the only place that's safe for this world."

 

* * *

He had been walking for hours, figuratively at any rate, yet he was no closer to the horizon, nor, he guessed, to his goal. Laguna stopped to take his bearings, wiped his hand across his brow and gave the matter some serious thought.

He was neither hot nor tired. This desert was like nothing he had encountered during his adventures in the name of journalism. When he looked behind him, there were no landmarks on the stony, barren vista by which he could gauge his progress. Had he made any? This was not a physical journey, after all, but a mental representation. All symbolic.

He'd never cared much for symbolism. Actively existing among them now made his head hurt. Were these his symbols, or Squall's? If this was Squall's conception—only logical since it was his mind, after all—was Squall deliberately keeping a distance between them? Or was he completely unaware of Laguna's presence, lost in his own thoughts. Quite literally.

But he had left a trail, the tracks in the sand he had been following. Therefore Squall could be found, must want to be found, on some level. If Laguna could make himself known...

"Squall!" he shouted at the top of his metaphorical lungs. "Don't move! I'm looking for you! Stay where you are!" One of the most basic search and rescue procedures: when lost, stay put, so others can locate you. It had saved him on several occasions. If it worked in his beliefs, it should work here.

But his call disturbed some balance in the dreamscape. A wind began to blow, stirring and scattering the gray sand. The tracks were shifted, covered by whirls of dust. Laguna swore and began to run along what remained of the trail before its last traces were buried. He put his head down to shield his eyes from the flying sand—

And almost rammed head-first into a boulder. Raising his arms just in time to catch himself, he stopped and looked around. The desert was gone. In its place rose a rocky panorama equally as forbidding. He stood on a ledge near the pinnacle of a craggy mountain, as devoid of life as the desert, but at least the granite formations gave the place some character. This might have been a reality, a place in the true world, rather than a featureless fiction.

And he was not alone. Mere paces away another stood, facing away from him, overlooking the spreading mountain range.

Laguna cleared his throat. "Hello—"

The figure spun around. Slate gray eyes met his, and the smooth high brow furrowed, confounded. "Laguna?"

Laguna smiled, resisting the urge to throw his arms around the young man. "Squall."


	10. Endgame

"Laguna?" Squall repeated in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Laguna told him.

"Why?" Squall's expression shifted to anger, his hand groping for his gunblade's holster—which was not on his belt, Laguna noted. The SeeD took a step back, braced for battle. "Are you with Seifer? Why are you hunting me?"

"I'm your father." But that wasn't enough of an answer, not for Squall. Unable to face the censure in his son's eyes, Laguna surveyed the jagged mountain peaks, the bleak sky. "You should've done like I suggested and come to Esthar for a vacation. This place is way too...lonely."

"I'm not supposed to be here!" Squall snapped. "I'm trying to find my way back—I've looked everywhere, gone everywhere—I need to get back. I need to stop Seifer."

"Stop Seifer?" Laguna frowned, then recalled that Seifer was that other gunblade specialist, the SeeD cadet who had served Ultimecia. "What's Seifer doing now?"

"You don't even know?" Squall made a short, strangled sound, a tortured chuckle. "He brought down the Garden—he killed them. He killed all of them. They're dead and I was too late, and he defeated me, but I'll find a way to stop him. I'll avenge them, I have to. They need me—"

He was raving, his eyes wide, his narrow face gaunt and far too old, and Laguna could only stare at his son in helpless confusion until he suddenly understood. Oh gods, oh deities and devils. "Squall, it wasn't real, it didn't happen. It was a trick. Lord Dahl of Galbadia, Jezikan's consort, he has this power, see, it's like Ellone's, only instead of putting you in the past it puts you in your own head, into nightmares. He was trying to hurt you, but none of it was real, it was all imaginary. It was only a vision."

"I saw them. I saw them dead, I saw them die." Squall swayed where he stood, one hand going up to cover his face. "Rinoa..."

"It was all in your mind. They're fine." At least they had been; Laguna didn't think it was the time to admit there were no guarantees, given the situation he had left them in. "You're who they're worried about."

"But...Seifer...I saw her die. I watched..." A shudder racked him.

This time Laguna didn't resist the temptation. He wrapped his arms around his son and rubbed his back soothingly, just as he used to comfort Ellone when she was a little girl, crying for her lost parents. Squall shed no tears, but his whole frame shook with suppressed sobs. "Hey, it's okay," Laguna said quietly. "They're all alright, Zell, Selphie, Irvine, Quistis, Xu, your pilot, what's his name, Nida—all of them. And Rinoa. She was there when Ellone sent me here. She's with you now, waiting for you to wake up. It wasn't real."

He didn't know if Squall was listening, but he knew he would be believed. Nearly anything was so preferable to such a nightmare that it would be accepted even if it were a lie; and the truth would be obvious, in this false dreamscape. Patiently Laguna waited, holding him, until the shaking slowed and stopped. Squall stiffened, then pushed his father away. His eyes were clear, without that frightening glitter of delirium, but flat, cold. "If I can wake up, then I'm still dreaming. You're a dream." It wasn't an accusation but a simple statement.

"No. ...Well, yeah, kind of, but not exactly," Laguna said. "I'm not actually physically here, maybe, but it is really me. In spirit. Ellone put me here. We didn't know how else to reach you."

"If this is a dream, then I don't know what will be real when I wake up."

"That's why you need to wake up."

Squall considered this for a long moment. "You said Lord Dahl did this to me."

"It's his ability, giving nightmares. He can...kill with it. But Ellone stopped him."

"I thought...Seifer killed me. I thought I was dead." _I wanted to be_. Though unspoken, the words hung in the air as if pronounced.

Laguna contained a horrified shiver. "You have to come back. Before you _are_ dead. You gotta wake up."

"How?" Squall stared at him sharply. "I've tried. I know I need to go back. They need me...I need them." He paused, then spoke so softly Laguna could barely hear him. "You're right. It's too lonely here."

"I don't know how to get back. You have to find your own way."

"...You don't know?"

"I'm not an expert on this mental stuff. That's Elle's area, though even she didn't understand much about what Dahl does. We're all going on guesswork. But this is your mind. You should know your way around."

"How are you getting back?"

"Dunno." Laguna shrugged. "It was a risk."

"You don't know?" Squall was close to shouting. Here he lacked the control that served him so well in waking reality. Emotion slipped past his barriers. "If I don't wake up, I'll die. That's what you said. Does the same goes for you? How could you take that risk? You have responsibilities. You're a president, Laguna."

"I'm your father, Squall. That's a responsibility, too."

Gray eyes narrowed. "Not one you ever took."

He didn't let it hurt him—he couldn't, though it stung harshly. "I'm sorry. I told you before and I'll tell you now, even though it doesn't change what was. But I am sorry. I didn't know, I didn't even guess. If I'd imagined Raine was pregnant—if I'd ever heard you were born—"

"But you didn't." It would be less painful if he sounded more indicting, not so damnably rational. "We're not family. You have a family. Ellone's your daughter. You have a whole nation that needs you—"

"And I have a son. I shouldn't love you, just because I didn't know? I have a country, you said, all those people who rely on me—" As crazy as that might be. "But how am I supposed to care about any of them, if I don't care about you? How could I possibly love a whole nation, if I don't love my own son?

"Esthar needs me, maybe, but you do too, Squall. I wasn't there for you for years and years, but then I could help you, so I did. It wasn't because I had to, it was because I wanted to, because I was the only one who could. I was glad I could do something for you, finally. For your friends, too—they're all so upset. I can guess what it's like, I remember waking up in Winhill after escaping the Lunatic Pandora, when I thought Ward and Kiros might be dead, and it really hurt. And Rinoa—she loves you, I've watched her with you, she loves you so much. You can't leave her, maybe I left Raine but you can't leave her. You're better than me."

"I don't want to leave her," Squall whispered. "I don't. I...I need her. I love her. All my friends..."

"Your family," Laguna murmured, understanding. "They need you, too—"

He didn't think he had said too much, but Squall's head snapped up, eyes alight with comprehension. "They're in trouble. That's why they need me to wake up—I need to get back there, help them—"

"No!" Laguna cried. "That is—yes, there's trouble, and yes, they could use your help. But that's not why they want you up and awake and alive. Rinoa wouldn't care if you never fought again, if you quit SeeD the second you woke up—neither would any of the others. They love _you_, Squall, not what you can do. You're part of their family, like they're part of yours. I know you're scared to be so close to them, but that's true for them, too. Caring about people like that, it goes both ways—it's not only that you're dependent on them; they also depend on you. I don't mean fighting and strategy and all that work being commander. I mean as friends. They wouldn't be your friends if you weren't their friend—you wouldn't love Rinoa so much if she didn't love you just as much. Which she does. Go back for them. Go back for her." He stopped to draw a breath, muttered to himself, "I always talk too much."

"...Maybe." But one side of Squall's mouth quirked up.

"Come on, isn't that enough? Get going." Laguna waved at him, as if he could sweep him back to the waking world.

Squall shook his head. "I don't—I don't think I can, by myself." He took a step forward, inclined his head with bare, honest respect. "Can you help me...Father?"

Laguna blinked rapidly, cleared his throat. "'Dad.' Please. I don't need any more titles." But Squall was frowning faintly, a worried, very young look in the back of his eyes. "Forget it," Laguna said. "So what do we do? Pinch each other? Hold hands and chant? Click our heels together three times?"

"I don't know." But he took Laguna's hand and closed his eyes, concentrating.

Laguna followed suit, thinking as fast as he could. Squall was counting on him, here—his son, who never relied on anyone but himself if he could help it. But he needed help, knew he needed help, and he believed in Laguna—he'd never thought that would happen, for his son to trust him so much. It was the most incredible pride he'd ever experienced.

And the most terrifying responsibility. _Think, Laguna. Can't fail him._ His head was pounding in earnest. _Ellone, bring us back_. But they were beyond her reach...

No. They couldn't be. When Ellone sent people into others' pasts, she stayed with them, underwent whatever they lived through in both minds. They weren't nearly as far away as the past now, however deep inside they might be. Moreover, Laguna was still here. He knew he had no psychic talents of his own, but Squall's mind was not his. He would not have an existence here, unless Ellone was holding him, keeping him present and whole.

He remembered passing through the void, nearly losing himself...but he hadn't. Ellone had said she felt a darkness, an emptiness, whenever she tried to send someone into Squall. Could that emptiness have been the void, which he had penetrated? With Ellone's help—and she must still be with him, for him to be here. And both of them alive. The blackness wasn't the veil of death; it was merely a wall, blocking Squall from consciousness. It could be cracked, if they could but reach it...if they could perceive it.

"Reach out," he told his son. "There's a wall in front of us, a wall we have to break through. You feel it?"

Squall shifted, not letting go of his hand. "Yes."

Laguna opened his eyes.

The wall stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, towered above them to almost touch the slate sky. It was made of giant, smooth, jet-black stones, fitted together so neatly there was no chink wider than a hair between them. Squall's hand was pressed to the largest block, a boulder as vast as a skyscraper.

Laguna smiled. "Good. Now we just gotta knock it down."

"All right." Squall sounded neither surprised nor frustrated. Motioning his father away, he took a few paces back, then raised one hand to his brow. The other he extended toward the wall, and chanted under his breath.

Reality—such as it was—flickered. Squall faded, to be replaced by a pillar of faceted stone almost as tall as the wall. At the summit rose a being like a serpent of living crystal, enormous, impossibly graceful. Laguna's jaw dropped in amazement—this had to be a production of Squall's imagination. He had heard stories of Leviathan, but surely the real guardian force could not be so beautiful, so powerfully perfect.

Imaginary or not, at the serpent's roar, water clearer than glass flowed over the stone tower, a deluge pouring down to crash against the wall. White froth splashed to the heavens, as the currents seeped between the cracks and the waves beat thunderously at the rampart. The force of the flood pounded like a score of battering rams. Under the onslaught the giant center block shifted, and finally spun away with the torrent.

The water vanished, along with Leviathan's tower. Squall reappeared, shouting, "Father!" He lunged forward, and Laguna reached for him—

And the rest of the wall came tumbling down. They fell with the stones, about to be crushed beneath a cascade of boulders, plummeting into a vast abyss.

"Ellone," Laguna hollered, "get us out of here!" He held onto his son's hand, determined not to let go as the tumbling rocks hammered him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he repeated to himself that the avalanche was only symbolic, it was all in his head, it was all in their minds...

Silence. He wasn't falling anymore, though he didn't remember hitting the ground. And he no longer gripped Squall's hand.

He sat up—or tried to, only his body was stiff, unresponsive. When he opened his eyes he was blinded by light. "Hold on, stay calm," commanded a soothing alto. Cool, gentle hands pushed him down.

"It's about time!" said another voice.

"Kiros?" Laguna asked, and then it all came back. He sat up again, ignoring the doctor's restraining hands and his own cramped muscles and spinning head. "Ellone? Squall? Where's Squall? How's Squall?"

 

* * *

"He's waking up. He should be fine."

Squall heard Dr. Kodowaki's words, took a second to process them, and another moment to deduce that they might be referring to him. He levered open his eyes. Blurs of motion gradually resolved into shapes, colors...figures.

"Come on, Squall!"

"Give the man some space, Zell."

A face, leaning over him, blue eyes fixed on him with open worry. He knew those eyes, that dark tattoo, last seen on a bloodied corpse, but vital now. "Zell!"

Squall surged up and grabbed him, to verify his existence. He was solid. Real. Alive.

Zell for his part automatically returned the hug with wholehearted relief. Only belatedly did it register which friend this was, who usually avoided such displays at all costs, who now was trembling in his embrace, barely but perceptible. "Uh...Squall? Hey, man..."

Squall yanked back as if he had been hit, muttering an apology under his breath. The excuse died on his lips as Quistis tentatively laid a hand on his arm, as Selphie and Irvine reached across from the other side of the bed. "You—you're all alive," he whispered. "He was right. You're alive." A small, rare smile spread over his face, exquisite for its singularity. Then his composure locked in place. Seriously he asked, "Where's Laguna—and Ellone?"

"We're here, Squall." Ellone sounded beyond tired, exhaustion dragging at each word. But her eyes glowed with satisfaction, even as she leaned against Laguna, who put his arm around her shoulders.

Squall nodded, the smile flaring across his features and vanishing again. He scanned the room, noting Dr. Kodowaki, Kiros and Ward—when had they all come on board?—and several other SeeD, peering in from the medical bay's entry in hope of glimpsing their revived commander. But there was one missing...

He frowned, unease twining around his heart. "Where's Rinoa?"

Zell stepped forward, his expression solemn, and the unease exploded into true fear. He fought it down as Zell pointed at the window, saying, "She's...out there."

"Where?" Squall swung his legs off the bed, uncertainly found his balance. Quistis and Irvine both moved to offer assistance, then stopped as he walked on his own to the window. The sun was rising from the sea, the clouds still touched with the last rose of dawn. High in the sky above, a final star shone, fading into daylight.

He squinted at that single celestial point. Too far above the horizon to be the morning star, it almost appeared to move, climbing higher as it dwindled.

"What is that?" he asked quietly.

"They brought back the Lunatic Pandora. We had to stop it," Zell said. And had no need to continue.

Squall pressed his hand to the glass, willing his eyes to still see the false star, even as it was swallowed by the sun's glare, even as he felt his own heart fly with it to be lost to the light. "Rinoa..."

 

* * *

"The moon? Is she—" Laguna recalled his son was still in the medical bay with them and hastily lowered his voice, "is she nuts?"

Kiros shrugged even as Ward grunted an assent. "That's what I thought," the minister murmured in an undertone. "But it's working. Rinoa can control the Pandora, being a Sorceress, but even that isn't enough to stop it from summoning a Lunar Cry. So she's taking it to the one place a Lunar Cry won't destroy."

"The moon. Bahamut's Flame." Laguna ran his hand through his long hair. "Couldn't we get her out of there? Once the Pandora's down..." He trailed off, realizing the impossibility. Over the years Esthar had tried to land multiple ships, both unmanned and crewed, on the moon. None had ever successfully penetrated the corrosive lunar atmosphere, and more significantly the monsters which inhabited both land and 'air.' Anything that fell to the moon was never going to return.

"But before the Pandora's hit the burning zone, when it's just been caught in the lunar gravity, couldn't we send a ship to pick up Rinoa? It'd be a small window of time, but it should be enough—"

"If we could get close enough," Dr. Kodowaki joined the conversation. She spoke loudly enough to be heard across the room, directing a meaningful look at the silent SeeD commander. "But from what Esthar has told us..."

Kiros heaved a sigh. "I've been in contact with Dr. Lapier and the spacestation researchers. In the last few hours they've been taking readings like crazy. When the Pandora took off, a powerful electrical field went up around it. Not only is it scrambling every kind of radio and electromagnetic signal they've tried, it destroyed the two probes they sent in. The scientists don't know if the Pandora's reacting to space, or the Sorceress, or what—for all we know Rinoa's just overheating the damn thing. But we can't get through that field; any ship that tries will be dead in space, if it doesn't just explode on contact."

"If only we could get through to Rinoa, tell her what's going on, maybe she could put it down..." Selphie suggested tentatively.

Quistis shook her head. "You heard Kiros. No radio. We've tried."

"And would she listen even if we could," Irvine muttered. "You know Rinoa—she knew damn well rescue was going to be dangerous, if not impossible. This was her choice." He looked stricken, but went on, "She might've even put up that shield, to keep us from trying something stupid—"

"It wouldn't be stupid—it'd save her _life_," cried Zell. "She wouldn't do that. She's nuts sometimes, but she wouldn't just...just throw away her—"

"She's saving the world!" Irvine snapped back. "She always wanted to make a difference—"

"But she couldn't—" Selphie protested.

"She might," Quistis raised her voice to speak over Selphie, "but it's an idiotic, irresponsible—"

"Don't you even care—this is _Rinoa's life_—"

"We _know_, and she cares as much as I do, but you gotta admit—"

"How long?"

The soft question instantly silenced the SeeD. Still standing by the window, their commander met their distressed, grieving eyes coolly. "How long?" he repeated.

Kiros was the only one with the presence of mind to check his watch. "Given the Pandora's current speed, about five hours before it enters the lunar atmosphere."

Squall nodded.

"Squall..." Laguna began uncertainly.

His son barely looked at him. "Forgive me, Father. Everyone." He closed his eyes for an instant, hardly more than a blink. "I...need to be alone. For a little while. I'll meet you all on the bridge. We'll figure out what to about FH and Galbadia and...everything else, then."

In silence he walked by them. Zell made an aborted motion toward his commander, halted before he blocked his way. "I'm sorry," the SeeD muttered under his breath. "Dammit, Squall, I'm sorry..."

If Squall heard, he passed without responding. The doors to the medical bay slid shut behind him. Selphie pressed her fist to her mouth in mute denial. Irvine made no effort to comfort her, his hat pulled low so the brim hid his eyes.

Quistis stood stock-still for a long moment, then, with a half-shake of her blonde head, also left the office.

Laguna sat heavily in one of the available chairs. He felt a solid hand on his shoulder, looked up into Ward's solemn, understanding face. His friend shook his head slowly.

Laguna nodded. "I know." There wasn't anything he could do for his son, that he realized. It didn't make it any easier to take.

 

* * *

Squall went to his quarters. No one followed him; the SeeD previously gathered outside the hospital wing dispersed like autumn leaves when he emerged, drifting back to their assignments. The residence corridor was deserted.

He was grateful for the solitude, though he felt a twinge of guilt for using their compassion. No matter. He had only been honest; he did need to be alone. Not one of the SeeD, among his friends or his greater command, would willingly let him do this. But he had no choice.

Lionheart was still in its case. He buckled its sheath around his waist, suppressing a shudder at the smooth fit of his fingers around the hilt. The last time he had wielded the gunblade...

No, that had just been a dream. A trick. This was real. The Pandora. And Rinoa.

Reality was not a nightmare. In reality there always existed hope.

He lingered by the 'com on his desk, considered calling Cid on Galbadia Garden, where he and Xu were holding down the fort. But his friends could handle the FH situation without his help, as they had been doing already. And Cid would guess. The headmaster knew him too well—better and for longer than his real father. Though Laguna was as important to him. He couldn't deny that anymore.

Both would try to stop him, if they knew. He didn't use the 'com. Instead he left his quarters and continued down the empty hall, avoiding the central hub by sticking to the small, less-used side passages. Finally, unseen by anyone, he reached the garage.

Behind the autos and other SeeD transports, the great, angular contours of the Ragnarok rose into the shadows, its pinions nearly piercing the high ceiling. Squall headed for the airship's entrance ramp.

Only to find someone already standing before it, her arms crossed and one brow arched sardonically.

Squall stopped, one hand going to Lionheart's hilt. "Quistis."

"Squall." She sighed, shaking her head. "You're pretty predictable, you know that?"

"...Whatever." He strode to the ship, ready to retaliate if she tried to block his way.

She didn't. "Let me come with you."

"No."

"Because it's too dangerous for me?"

"Yes." He started up the ramp.

"Squall."

She couldn't have restrained him with her whip or her spells, but at that low tone he stopped, turned around.

Quistis reached out and cupped his cheek, long fingers pressing lightly in almost a caress. "Good luck," she whispered.

And he felt a gift flowing from her into him. The empty crevices in his mind were filled with the powerful presences of the guardian forces, Eden and Quetzalcoatl, the newest and the oldest of their harnessed deities. He had missed the reassuring strength of their energies, without realizing the loss until this moment they were returned to him.

"Thank you," Squall said, and Quistis bowed to him. Not the polite, slightly ironic nod to her commander that she usually practiced, but a deep, respectful bow from the waist, her hands clasped before her.

He returned the honor. Then he finished the climb into the Ragnarok and closed the portal behind him, leaving Quistis standing alone among the lesser vehicles in the garage.

 

* * *

"What's that?"

Nida followed Zell's pointing finger and frowned at the diode newly lit on the console. "That's the garage gates, but they shouldn't be—"

An electronic signal chimed and faded. Selphie lifted her head from her pacing around the office's perimeter and shot over to the 'com. "Hey, that sounded like the Ragnarok's flag."

Nida nodded. "I think—what the hell? It's taking off! Ragnarok, come in—"

Irvine swore. Selphie looked to Zell, color draining from both their faces as they realized it together. "Squall."

 

* * *

Hours later, Quistis stood on the ledge in the training compound, her elbows on the rail. She gazed up at the blue, blue sky, breathing in the salt-laden breeze from over the ocean. FH and the long train tracks stretching toward either horizon marred the otherwise perfect symmetry of sea and sky.

She heard footsteps behind her, turned and started in surprise. Not one of the SeeD, but Kiros Seagil, picking his way carefully over the bridge. He hailed her, "Good hiding place, eh?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Everyone knows about it."

He eyed her shrewdly. "There's lots that can't be hidden from, as it is."

"They haven't been able to contact him yet, have they."

Kiros shook his head. "Everyone's about to give up. Either he broke the radio or he's just refusing to respond. He's almost beyond the horizon as it is."

She squinted at the bright sky, trying to catch some slightest glimpse, any sparkle that could possibly be the Pandora's energy field or the Ragnarok's thrusters. But the sun drowned anything she might have seen. "How close is he?"

"He might have caught up with the Pandora already. That airship of yours can really fly."

"And the Pandora won't reach the moon for another couple hours."

"According to our scientists, yeah. So he hopefully has time to do whatever he's going to do."

"Good." She gave up straining her eyes and leaned on the rail again.

"Quistis," Kiros said, lowering his voice. "I wanted to ask—why didn't you stop him?"

Quistis was hard-pressed not to stare. Thanks to Ellone, she had spent time inside this man's head, a fact she still found disconcerting to contemplate, but for him to know her just as well... "I already told everyone, I got there too late," she said. "Squall was already onboard the Ragnarok when I reached the garage."

"That's what you told everyone, yeah. But could you have stopped him?"

She met his eyes, obsidian dark and warm with an empathy she couldn't interpret. "You were there when Laguna had Ellone send him into Squall. Could you have stopped him?"

"No." Kiros smiled ironically. "I wouldn't have tried."

Quistis nodded, saying nothing.

And Kiros snorted, almost a chuckle. "How do they do it," he murmured. "Do you ever wonder?" He stepped up to overlook the sea beside her, shoulder to shoulder. "One thing," he said, "one thing you can't forget—they always manage. The Loires, they don't give up, and they don't fail. And they always come back."

"And we'll always wait for them," Quistis whispered, so softly the wind stole her words.

"You can't do anything for Squall now," Kiros said. "Maybe later, from what your headmaster's been saying. But right now we could use your help down here. Cid's negotiating with FH, trying to convince them the Pandora's no longer a danger, and there's certain other matters..."

"Their broken generator," Quistis recalled Rinoa's ploy.

"The Mayor's not too happy about that, for some reason. Laguna's trying to calm him down, but Laguna is, er, not exactly a diplomat. He's my best friend, but he's got all the political instincts of a sleepy wombat. If I abandon him to negotiating too long he'll end up pledging Esthar's entire treasury to FH for reparations. And they're supposed to be _our_ colony."

"What about the Galbadians?"

"That's a whole other story. Your SeeD are rounding up the troops who haven't already fled for home, but then there's the Deling City issue, whatever your ex-Knight pal is up to there..."

"Sounds like trouble."

"You could say that. Lots to keep us busy." Kiros pushed away from the rail and extended his hand to her. "Come, my lady. Duty awaits."

She accepted his courteous assistance down the slope, pausing once to look back and try one last time to pierce the veil of sunlight and clear sky to the stars beyond.

"Courage, Quistis," Kiros murmured, for only her ears. "Trust them."

"I do," she said, and was reassured to find it was true.

 

* * *

Through the soundless vacuum of space roared the Ragnarok. The drone of its engines vibrated the cockpit, driving back a little of the tremendous oppression of the nothing. Here, outside the planet's atmosphere, the stars were brilliant but cold, no longer twinkling points of light but suns burning impossibly far away. Brave, incredibly brave, the ancients had been, if the legends were true and they had left the world to seek new homes across that inconceivable distance.

Squall shoved the atavistic fear of such immensity to the back of his mind. He kept his eyes off the stars and on the slowly-expanding contour of the Lunatic Pandora, a small black rectangle against the blanched moon, even its enormous height dwarfed by the planetary body.

He tried the radio again. "Rinoa? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

The Pandora had the capability, woven into its organic crystal walls, to pick up any transmission on the electromagnetic spectrum; but the only answer he got was static, hissing louder the closer he drew. Already the Ragnarok's instruments were starting to go on the fritz, buzzing and blinking flashes of false data. The compass spun, though it should have stayed steady on the great blue-and-white globe glowing like a lamp below. The electric field around the Pandora disrupted the equipment, Esthar's best, even through the Ragnarok's formidable shields. Another ship would not have made it this far.

To reach the Pandora, he would have to cancel that field. The Ragnarok lacked the necessary power. But he had other resources, if they were strong enough.

The airship began to founder as it neared the Pandora, its stabilizing thrusters firing out of synchronization. Squall switched to manual override and guided the Ragnarok closer. Upon approach he had to match its acceleration. His fingers cramped in their tight grip, the necessary minute adjustments made barely in time. Selphie, with her natural affinity for the airship's controls, would have had a much easier time of it. But he couldn't have asked her, even if she probably would have agreed to come in an instant; he hadn't dared risk anyone on this mission. Bad enough that he had likely lost the SeeD their most advanced vehicle. They couldn't afford to lose any more people as well.

They probably were furious with him anyway.

The monitors of the cockpit flickered and died one by one as the Pandora became steadily larger through the thick titaniglass window. Sparks flashed around the hull, electricity dancing like scattered confetti. When the thrusters began to fail, he knew he had reached the limit. Any closer and the energy field generated by the Pandora would crack the airship apart, as it had Esthar's probes. He had maneuvered the Ragnarok well enough to maintain velocity with the Pandora, falling with it toward the moon.

Hopefully they would not drift too far apart while he sought to dispel field. He tried the radio one last time, to no avail. It wouldn't turn on. Rinoa couldn't hear him. Though for a moment, as he looked long at the shimmering slab deceptively small outside the window, he almost thought he could see her, trapped in the Pandora's brilliant heart, a speck of living warmth behind the impenetrable walls of ice and power.

Unstrapping himself from the pilot's chair, Squall moved back to the center of the darkened cockpit, lit now only by the moon and the Pandora. He floated in free fall above the floor, orienting himself with little difficulty in the still air. Eyes closed, he brought up one hand to his face, pointed the other toward where the afterimage of the Pandora lingered under his lids. Focused as he was, the incredible magic of the thing washed like a sea around him, barely perceptible to his conscious mind, flowing with the natural energy of the field.

He reached inside himself, and called forth the ancient king of those forces, the master of the storm's power long before humans had learned to control it with magic or machines. At his summons, Quetzalcoatl, the snake god, the god of lightning, came.

The Guardian Force poured from him, rising up out from the ship's confines, and Squall ascended with it, caught as always in the commanding current of its might. Mankind supposedly had tamed the Forces, but to call them forth was not to order but to request, and then to be swept along with their manifestation. There was no control, except the slightest direction of who should be attacked, protecting allies and striking enemies; otherwise the Forces did as they would. Their very presence in the mind granted use of magic and other abilities, and the Forces in turn gained strength and wisdom. But to summon their being was to give one's will entirely over to them, if briefly.

So Squall had always fought, never questioning their right, profiting for their gifts and accepting the cost, the loss of memory from leasing out part of one's mind. The Forces grew stronger with him, even more powerful, and he had tamed others, following the rules of capture and combat laid down eons before any city on the planet had been built.

Now, for Rinoa's sake, he broke those rules. No visible foe, no obvious target, and through their mental link he sensed Quetzalcoatl's confusion, a quandary easily leading to anger. Before it could, he pushed his own self to the fore, impinging on the guardian force's right of possession in order to explain, to request.

But there was no need. The moment he attempted to clarify himself, Quetzalcoatl engulfed him, filling his mind, differently than all his previous experiences. Not merely manifesting from a single small corner of thought, it instead wrapped around his very spirit, until he was lost in the intensity of its being.

Then they were one, as they had never been. Quetzalcoatl's power was not an outside presence but essential to his being, electricity flowing through his blood, his skin both flesh and scales, his limbs wings and tail as much as arms and legs. He hovered in cold space and felt none of its chill, only the flicker of energy. Was this what it was for Rinoa to possess the Sorceress's gifts, to wield not borrowed magic but undiluted power?

Only he was not the true owner of this power. He was aware of the other presence—more than aware. He cowered in the shadow of a being as great a phenomenon as the stars, even as he existed as that being's very nature. He wondered how he had even dared to hold one such creature, much less the many they had accrued. How had mankind ever believed themselves worthy of even requesting brief favors of them? If he had fully realized the reality of the guardian forces...

And Quetzalcoatl knew him as intimately...as so much more. For how could he truly understand a god; and how could a god fail to understand completely his transient, minuscule existence. He knew Quetzalcoatl comprehended his request, and was all too aware of how insignificant it must seem. Emotions, attachments, everything important in life...how little they must matter to an existence old as the universe. What could mortal love mean to an eternal?

//**What could a mortal mean to a god?**//

It was a voice beyond speech. There were no words, only the essence of the question.

//**What could a god mean to a mortal?**//

//**You gift us with more than we could ever offer you. We serve you gladly for the lessons you teach...for the teachings you learn yourself, and we with you.**//

//**We learn.**//

Through the silence of space he heard laughter, deep and rich and inhuman in its power, in the purity of its feeling.

//**Our love to you, Master. We do all we can.**//

And he felt Quetzalcoatl emerge from him again—the combined aspect of their being called forth, so what was summoned was not a mere guardian force, no temporary manifestation from the otherstate, but the god itself.

It rose from the world and stretched toward the moon. Its feathered wings spread wide enough to envelope the stars; its smooth scales reflected every shade and hue of light. It hurt to look upon, yet once seen one could not look away. The Ragnarok was nestled in the heart of its serpentine spiral, and before it, a single die rolled in space, fell the Lunatic Pandora.

Quetzalcoatl's great wings swept forward to encircle the Pandora, but before the tips met, energy sparked along the shimmering feathers. The snake god writhed, incredible length arching backward as its tremendous jaws gaped in a soundless scream. Electricity crackled as it brought its own power to bear, space itself warping and darkening into impossible storm clouds.

Then the lightning came, a bolt to cleave the world, arcing from the globe below to strike the Pandora. All the heavens flashed, the universe entire bright as the sun for a single blink.

Following it, a shriek, not the god's but human, a girl's voice torn asunder. _Rinoa!_

He felt pain, but whether it was his body's, or hers, or an echo from his link with the god around him, he couldn't tell. It was not enough to dissuade him. "_Rinoa_," he begged, "_hold on. I'm coming. Hold on!_"

But his was not the only wish. He felt it through Quetzalcoatl, a force almost equal to the god's. Not wise, not knowing, but as profound. A pressure, a pulling, a desperate grip which trapped her, as an eagle's talon closed around a rabbit, or a torama's claws sunk into a mesmerize's body.

She would not be devoured; she would not be its prey, not while he still existed. He fought, without weapons, without body, with nothing except his determination.

Backed by Quetzalcoatl's unfathomable power.

Feathered wings closed over the Pandora, and energy coruscated through both god and machine. The backlash burned him, flung him back.

Squall gasped as his head slammed into the steel girder of the Ragnarok's frame, one hand going up to feel the bump... He stopped, stared dumbly at the hand, the five fingers where he had unconsciously expected iridescent plumes, at the cockpit around him where there had been frozen vacuum. Setting his boots against the wall, he pushed off toward the window, catching the crossbeam to halt his zero gravity glide.

There he watched in awe as the snake god, whose power still throbbed within his own mind, coiled around the Lunatic Pandora. The great pointed head dipped down, as if in a kiss of blessing. At the point of contact sparks exploded, and space was set afire with raw energy.

Squall blinked. When he squinted open his eyes, the Pandora was jet black against the white moon, and Quetzalcoatl was gone. He searched the recesses of his mind. Eden was still present, dormant, but of Quetzalcoatl there was no trace, not a vestige of the guardian force's powers or abilities.

All that remained was the thinnest thread in his mind, and at its other end he sensed, not the god, but a living being. A heart beating in another breast, fast with fear and effort.

_Hold on, Rinoa!_

And felt her reach out to him, extend her frail hand through the emptiness dividing them.

The Pandora was dark, the energy field momentarily dispersed. Squall shoved off the window and shot toward the pilot's seat, catching the headrest and swinging himself into it as he stabbed the controls for every thruster available. Only a few responded, and the Ragnarok lurched forward, picking up velocity as he pressed every still-working system to its limit. A lone proximity alert chimed in hesitant alarm before failing, and the Pandora's black wall swelled before him.


	11. Checkmate

Everything around her pulsed with living power, until she could not tell where her own veins ended and the raw energy that was the lifeblood of the Lunatic Pandora began. She experienced the vastness of space, not through the walls, but with them, as if the crystal had become her very eyes, as if the stone were her very skin. She moved through the vacuum and felt no cold. It was so simple, the power which now was hers. To extend her hand was to command the awesome might of the Pandora, with no effort, with no fear or hesitation. She flew to the moon as easily as she had once strode across a room. Only when she tried to divide herself from that which held her did she find an act beyond her ability. It was simpler not to resist, to give herself over as she had promised, and fall with it, ever faster...

When that power was cut off, Rinoa felt it as if were her own heart that stopped beating. Cold death cast its shadow across her as the world went dark. The pain was excruciating.

_Hold on!_

Squall's call was a lifeline, his plea the only force she could not resist. She held on. And found herself momentarily freed.

The Pandora stirred around her, not dead, only stunned, its energies reviving with every breath she drew. Rinoa pushed hard against the formless stuff engulfing her. It was like swimming through thick honey. When she tried to imagine how she could be breathing it she nearly choked, regained her respiration with effort. She clawed at the malleable crystal, until she burst through the surface and tumbled out into the chamber.

Shakily she tried to push to her feet, only to find there was no balance to gain in free fall. Caught helpless in the air, she had no choice but to touch the Crystal Pillar to steady herself.

There was no reaction when her fingers brushed against it. The dark pillar was quiescent, no longer pliant. She couldn't return if she wanted to, not until its energies were restored.

Almost sobbing with relief, Rinoa peered through the dimness down the dark corridor. Squall was coming; she knew it as surely as if she could think his thoughts. There would be nothing to stop her from going to him; the creatures of the Pandora were only extensions of the creation, and would be inert as it. She crouched, gathering her flagging stamina.

A talon closed around her boot and yanked her down, slamming her into the floor.

There was still one creature of the Pandora still active, if hardly alive, one spirit able to move with the last of its will. Jezikan Deling's eyes, the only part of her still human, glowed with frenzied rage. One skeletal hand gripped Rinoa's ankle like a vice, taut yellow tendons rupturing the charred skin. The lipless mouth moved, but the lungs held too little air for speech.

Rinoa cried out, twisting in a desperate struggle. As if sparked by the unholy light in the grotesque's eyes and the pendant still fiery around her neck, the Pandora began to glow again, a dusky blue shimmer spreading through the crystal.

Rinoa's hand, pressed to the pillar, began to sink into it. She tried to wrest herself free, but had not the leverage to break the membrane's seal. Jezikan's labored inhalations rattled like dry laughter.

_Hold on!_

Rinoa put her other hand to the pillar, felt the surface give beneath her palm. Before she could be drawn in, she pushed back and simultaneously kicked up, jackknifing her body in a single violent thrust. Jezikan, still gripping her ankle, was thrown up and forward, into the Crystal Pillar.

The impact broke the monstrous lady's grip, but instead of smashing against a solid wall, the pillar's surface displaced beneath Jezikan, sucking in her ruined body even as she thrashed, mouth split wide in anguish.

Braced against the floor, Rinoa wrenched her hands free of the rippling crystal and dove for the entranceway.

The tunnel was pitch black, and an icy draft set her shivering. Without looking behind to see what stirred in the Pandora's heart, she set her jaw against chattering and pulled herself along the rough ice wall. Light burst behind her, and then the whole Pandora shuddered, ringing as if it had been struck like a gong. Knocked against the arched passage, Rinoa staggered, lost her grip. She heard rushing air; then a gale wind hurled her into the ceiling and out of awareness.

 

* * *

Squall gripped the controls as the Ragnarok hurtled toward the Pandora, breathing through clenched teeth as he counted the seconds. It had worked before, albeit not in space and the airship had been in better condition, but then so had the Pandora.

He waited until the last possible second before hitting the retrorockets. The Ragnarok crashed nose-first into the Pandora's broad expanse, burrowing halfway into the wall before jerking to a stop. Steel bent with outraged screeches, but the titaniglass didn't fracture, and no telltale blasts or alarms announced a hull breach.

Squall was out of the chair almost before the airship stopped, shooting toward the cockpit's exit. He struggled into the spacesuit, barely taking time to verify its hermetic seal. No need for it immediately; the air outside the ship roared over the metal hull. But he had punctured the Pandora, and now its atmosphere was rushing into space.

He put the magnetic boots on their highest setting, clamping his feet to the floor as he opened the airlock. The wind from the vacuum's pull threw him off his stride as he marched down the ramp. Flakes of ice whirled in the gusts, an artificial blizzard.

One step into the tunnel, then a second. He strove to move faster, to run, but the boots would not allow him to lift both feet off the metal-lined floor at once, and the tempest winds tearing at him slowed his progress further. Switching on the suit's speaker, he tried to shout, but couldn't tell if he made a sound through the howling, thinning air. It was difficult to see through the darkness; the beam of the suit's headlamp was refracted by the false snow into a dance of deceptive shadows. He pushed on, ignoring the shadows, ignoring the fear that was growing ever louder even as the wind died, whispers of a failure that he could not afford, could not survive, even if he could escape here with his own life...

Then a crumpled form, a bundle of cloth and feathers carried in the gale, brushed past him. He caught it automatically. And stared through the ice crystals at the curve of white face illuminated by his lamp, the tangle of black hair torn by the wind.

A slender hand grasped his arm through the suit. Pale lips parted, and he read his name in their movement. For an instant he heard nothing, the wind's roar insignificant, and saw none of the ice's white, only the darkness of her barely open eyes, the warmth in their deep brown depths.

The wind howled loud as reality asserted itself with all its pressure. He wrapped one arm around Rinoa as tightly as he dared, with his other hand lowered the charge of his boots. As soon as the grounding force decreased, the hungry vacuum grabbed them, sucking them backwards. Hunched against the driving ice, they slid down the tunnel, the boots' low magnetism only just holding his feet to the floor as the wind blew them back. She was curled into a ball in his arms; he shielded her from the gale's bite as well as he was able. Through the suit's gloves he could hardly feel her body, but she must be frozen. He sensed her cold as a chill on the edge of his own perception.

At the Ragnarok's ramp he flipped the boots back to full power and braced for the abrupt halt. Fighting the force of the wind, he charged with all his strength up into the ship. When the airlock door finally slid shut, he kicked out of the boots, glided into the lift to the cockpit, still holding Rinoa. They weren't out of danger yet; the Pandora still plummeted toward the moon, accelerating as the gravity increased, and the Ragnarok fell with it.

He carefully set Rinoa in one chair, then sat in the pilot's seat and tore off his helmet while he charged the rockets. The Ragnarok sputtered to life like an antique automobile, bucking as its few remaining rockets fired in conflicting directions to try to force free of the Pandora. The vacuum helped now instead of hindered, pulling them out, but another force locked them in place, holding them as tightly as the magnetic boots had kept him on the deck.

Squall struggled for control as the rockets failed one by one, hit every switch only to see the lights go out and the airship's multi-toned hum lose every note, until the vibration of its engines had ceased. His mind went blank, as if he were already dead, the only remaining thought a monotone drone insisting this could not happen, this could not be the end, could not...

With his remaining will he cast his eyes to the seat beside him, to the love he had failed—

Only to find her not there. With a strangled gasp he leapt from his own chair, then spun as he heard a murmur behind him.

Rinoa floated in the cockpit's center, facing forward, her arms spread and her eyes closed. Her lips moved as she intoned a spell, too soft and quick for him to identify. The magic burst from her like a nova, lighting white wings opened behind her. Angel wings, holding her in place while the power flowed forth, from her body to the Pandora outside.

Through the blinding ice he saw a tornado form, a gathering of all the tunnel's remaining air into a whirling column. The funnel lashed like a whip, striking the ship and sending it tumbling free of the black wall, out into space.

The moon loomed before them, glowing, giant red destiny filling the front screens. Before Squall could reach the controls, the magic captured them, a second, impossible cyclone in the vacuum of space carrying them up, away from the Pandora, away from the lunar threat. A third tornado sped them along, driving them back toward the blue-and-white world they had left behind.

By now Squall had grasped the strategy of her magic use. With judicious use of his own gravity spells he balanced the Ragnarok, attempting to level their wild flight. When he opened his eyes, the stars were no longer spinning, and the moon was only a wide, rust-smudged circle in the starboard window.

The wings of the Sorceress had vanished, and Rinoa hung limp in the air. Hurriedly stripping off the last of the spacesuit, he anxiously pushed off the floor and, catching her up in his arms, gently sailed to the far corner of the cockpit. "Rinoa?"

Dark eyes fluttered open. "Squall..?"

Then her arms were around his neck, clutching him close as she buried her face in the furred collar of his jacket. "You're alive," she gulped. "You woke up. You're alive."

"I'm fine," he said. "Are you..." Her skin was cold, and she was shaking. She was sobbing. "Please, Rinoa, you gotta be..." He noticed with small surprise that he was also crying. "Are you..."

"I'm fine, too." Raising her head slightly, she scrubbed the heel of her palm across her eyes. "I'm just..." She looked at his face, and smiled widely, even with tears running down her cheeks. Lifting one hand she traced two fingers along the line of his jaw. "I'm fine."

Then she looked past him, out the side portal bright with the great moon. Keeping his arms around her waist, Squall turned to see as well.

Hardly more than a black dustspeck against the scarlet-hued orb, the Lunatic Pandora fell. As it dropped, the red on the lunar surface appeared to rise up, appeared to reach for it—no illusion at all, Squall realized. The Lunar Cry was claiming what it followed, drawing the Pandora down to the monsters which had always come to it.

As they watched, the tiny black dot was swallowed by the bulge. Then the swell began to subside, slowly absorbed back into the smooth, pale sphere.

Rinoa shuddered. Squall tightened his hold. "You aren't on it," he reminded her as well as himself.

"It wanted me to be," she said faintly. "The Pandora...it wasn't sentient, wasn't alive, yet somehow, it still _felt_. It wanted me...it wanted _me_. The Sorceress. And once it had me it wouldn't release me. It would do anything I asked, anything, except for that. It wouldn't let me go."

Then she laughed, muffled, not her usual giggle, but still happy. "And now I kind of know how it felt." She twined her arms around him, nestled her head comfortably against his chest. "I don't want to let go..."

"Don't," he said. Requested. He slid down the wall until they were nearly seated, hovering in the corner a little above the floor, and he rested his cheek on her soft hair. He felt her relax against him, curling her legs up onto his lap. Her arms remained around him.

Over her head he could see the cockpit, nearly all its lights dim. Life support still functioned adequately, but there was much damaged on the airship; he wasn't even sure repairs would be possible. Certainly not for the two of them, alone in space. He would need to investigate the problem. But now he held Rinoa, saying nothing, thinking nothing, only listened to her breathing slow as she slipped into much-needed sleep. And regardless of the Ragnarok's condition, despite everything that had occurred here or on the planet, at this moment all was right with his universe.

 

* * *

Quistis, accompanied by Kiros, joined Selphie, Irvine, and Zell on Fisherman's Horizon, where the SeeD and others crowded into the Mayor's house. Negotiations, however, were soon put on hold while they used the sophisticated equipment to interface with Esthar's, instruments all trained on the situation in space above. At Laguna's request, one of Esthar's chief scientists gave a running commentary of their current observations.

Minutes before, they had been watching via telescope and satellite the Pandora's descent and the Ragnarok's approach. Then, without warning, an energy surge had been detected from the Ragnarok, and all communications from space were cut off. The advanced telescopes proved nearly useless, their sensitive optics burnt out by a light so brilliant it was visible to the naked eye as a flicker through the sky, like a lightning bolt between high clouds.

"We still don't know what that was," the Esthar scientist related excitedly. "Wait, we're picking up a transmission from our station—I'll route it through."

"—you wouldn't believe it if you saw it," the scientist onboard the spacestation was saying over the radio. "We'll give a full report as soon as we...figure out what the hell that thing _was_. —Wait, we're getting visuals back online. The Pandora..." He hesitated a moment. "The Pandora has reached the lunar atmosphere. Repeat, the Pandora has reached the moon. It appears to be being absorbed into the incipient Lunar Cry. We have video contact."

One of the screens lit with a grainy image, the swirling, scarlet tinge of the Lunar Cry like red storm-clouds. In the center a minuscule black rectangle, obscured by the red fog, was all that could be seen of the Pandora. In another minute it was entirely gone.

"We are no longer detecting any sign of the Pandora," the station scientist reported. "Central, do you—"

"Negative," the other researcher replied. "There is no remaining—Station, what are your readings on the Cry?"

"Just coming in—I don't believe it!" The scientist's calm voice nearly cracked. "It's dispersing! Energies decreasing across the board—it's fading. The Lunar Cry has been canceled. They did it. Son of a—"

Laguna reached for the radio. "What's the position of the Ragnarok?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing yet..."

There was dead silence, broken at last by the station's update. "We've got visual confirmation. It's there. Drifting into a high orbit around this planet. No energy output—it appears to be inert. Can't tell if there's any lifesigns; those sensors will need to be recalibrated. No response yet to our radio signal."

"So we don't know..." Zell murmured.

"No." Ellone spoke with a sudden sharp intake of breath. She raised her head, hazel eyes shining. "They're both there. I just touched Squall. They made it. They're alive."

For another instant, complete silence reigned; then Zell sprang into the air as if his sneakers were winged and shouted at the top of his lungs, "All RIGHT!!"

Selphie grabbed Irvine and pulled down his head to plant a hard kiss right on his mouth. Quistis only smiled, until Kiros leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, "I just want to know—how the hell do they _do_ it?" And then she had to laugh.

"Central, you guys start planning a launch," Laguna ordered. "I want that airship brought down here safely ASAP—"

"Wait," Cid stopped him. "There might be a better way." He looked to FH's mayor, who nodded. The headmaster grinned, a remarkably youthful expression. "Come with me, all of you," he said to his SeeD, gesturing them toward the exit. "I need to show you something."

 

* * *

Rinoa yawned, stretched, and opened her eyes, to find she had inadvertently pushed herself into the air and was now drifting toward the ceiling of the Ragnarok's cockpit. Squall was watching. Silently he extended his hand to her. Smiling, she took it and levered herself back into the copilot's chair. "How long was I asleep?"

"'A few hours." His eyes still studied her intently. "Sorry I didn't take you to the bunks. To check out the ship's condition I needed to be on the bridge..."

"It's okay." Rinoa hooked her feet under the chair's struts to hold herself in place, enjoying the freedom of weightlessness too much to strap herself in. "So what is its condition?"

Squall frowned slightly. "Irvine might say...could be better. None of the engines are functioning. I could go outside in a suit to check them out, but I couldn't do anything about them anyway. The radio's out, too, at least the receiver's dead. I've tried sending a couple of distress signals, just in case the transmitter still works, though we won't be able to get a response. But we are in a stable orbit around the world, and Esthar's satellites and telescopes should be able to tell we're here. I expect they'll send a rescue mission, but it'll take at least a couple days to prep a rocket."

"A couple days, hmm?"

"The hull's banged up but still airtight, and the oxygen recirculators are okay. I've checked the stores and we have water and rations for more than a month. We should be all right until help comes."

"Sounds wonderful." There was no sarcasm in her tone. Squall cocked his head at her curiously, observing with no small comfort the sparkle in her eyes. He had missed that light. "We needed a vacation."

He recalled that his father had made such a suggestion, what felt like ages ago. Somehow Squall doubted being stranded on the Ragnarok was what Laguna had had in mind. But if Rinoa didn't care...

"Squall," she said, suddenly serious, and he looked to her anxiously. "Before...when I was on the Pandora. I thought...I heard you. Calling to me. Didn't I?"

"I called to you," he said. "I don't know if you could've heard me..." Slowly he explained what he had done, everything from when he woke up—she demanded to hear more of the vision, but he wasn't ready to tell all of it, even to her, not yet—from taking the Ragnarok, to Quetzalcoatl's sacrifice. Whether the guardian force was extinguished, or simply passed beyond the scope of mortal ken, he couldn't say. All he could express was his gratitude, and wish that the serpent god might receive it somehow.

Rinoa in turn told her part, what their other friends had left out when he awoke, and what only she knew. She shivered when she spoke of the Pandora, of being within the Crystal Pillar, to know its want from the inside.

"What happened to Jezikan?" Squall asked at last.

Rinoa shook her head. "She was within it. She might have already been dead when it fell. I hope..."

She put her hands over her face, exhaled softly, then leaned forward, reaching for the console before her. "It's over," she said. "I can't...I don't want to spend the rest of our time up here talking about it. This is a vacation, right? What kind of entertainment does this ship have?"

Squall shrugged. Rinoa fiddled with a clasp and popped open a compartment, from which she took out a handful of discs. She scrutinized the collection thoughtfully. "Hmm."

Squall looked over. "What are those?"

"They're Selphie's, I think. She has the strangest taste in music." Rinoa raised an unlabelled disc appraisingly to the light. "Do you think this is hard rock or an opera?"

"...Play it and see."

She slid the disc into the player. Then smiled at the tune that wafted from the speakers. "Squall, you remember this?"

"Yes." He would always remember, no matter how many guardian forces he might junction. They had played this waltz the night of his SeeD inauguration. The night of his first dance, dragged onto the floor by a beautiful girl in a white dress. No, this music he would never forget.

Rinoa smiled, then bounded from her chair to soar into the cabin space as if she were riding the very melody. Raven hair streaming around her like a mermaid's, she extended her hands to Squall. "Come on," she said. "Teach me how to dance in zero G."

"I don't know how."

"Then we'll learn together." She grabbed his hands, then kicked off the floor, using the leverage to cast them both spinning head over heels into the center of the cockpit. Gradually they floated to a stop, parallel to the floor. The side window, now overhead, shone with a million stars, gleaming untarnished through black vacuum. Rinoa tilted back her head to admire the shining infinity. "That's one problem with space," she sighed. "No shooting stars."

"They need an atmosphere to burn up."

"Squall, has anyone ever told you you are _not_ a romantic?" She grinned at his deliberately overplayed expression of bemusement. "Forget it. The song's almost done and we haven't figured out how to dance yet." She set a hand on his shoulder. He slipped one of his around her waist, caught up her free hand with the other. She struck outward with both feet, the momentum slowly twirling them in place.

The waltz ended and another began, which they moved to with slightly more success, until Squall attempted to dip her and sent them into a giddy whirl around the cabin. Rinoa clung to him, laughing, then reached out and caught the wall to halt their flight. She was breathing soft and fast, the exertion coloring her cheeks. Looping her arm around his neck, she drew him closer, until their lips met.

Squall gave into it completely. When the kiss finally broke he gazed into the darkness of her eyes without a word, knowing this was one time his customary quiet would not be objected. He pulled off his gloves to touch her face. The gentle breeze from the air circulator was warm, raising a thin film of moisture over the smooth skin he caressed. With careful fingers he undid the fastening of her coat, while she slid his jacket off his shoulders, and set both garments adrift.

They attempted to waltz again, but by the end of the disc the dancing was long over, and neither noticed when the music faded from the cockpit to leave them alone in the silence between the stars.

 

* * *

The alert would not have wakened them had it not been so persistent, a soft, steady beeping dispelling their mutual dreams. Rinoa roused as Squall disengaged his arms from around her and pushed himself to a more vertical position to the floor to check the display. "What's that?" she asked sleepily.

"The proximity alert is still working, apparently."

That chased the cobwebs away fast. "Proximity alert? Is it a meteor? Are we falling out of orbit?"

Squall shook his head, grasping the pilot's chair to pull himself closer to the console. "No. It..." He paused for an unusual length of time, even for him. "It looks like some kind of ship."

"A ship?" Rinoa hovered over his shoulder to get a look herself. The monitor wavered unsteadily and flashed spurts of static, but was functioning well enough to show the general configuration of the approaching mass. "But it hasn't even been twelve hours—you said it would be a few days."

"I thought it would." Squall frowned. "This doesn't look like an Esthar rocket. It's too small and the wrong shape." On closer inspection there seemed to be two separate ships, flying in tandem. The silhouette showed sleek, somewhat conical forms, flattened on one side, pointed at the bow and with a high energy output from the wider stern. He didn't recognize them offhand, but had a nagging feeling he had seen their like before and forgotten.

"I've heard stories about...aliens," Rinoa said. "You don't think..."

Suddenly the cockpit thrummed with a deep bass tone. Rinoa grabbed Squall in a momentary panic; together they listened to the note rise gradually and finally modulate into an identifiable pattern. Human speech. And a voice they recognized, no less. "Yo! Hey, Ragnarok? Is anyone there?"

Irvine sounded almost breathless with excitement. "You can't answer, but we're getting two stable lifesigns, and we sure hope you guys are Squall and Rinoa. Since your radio's probably out, we're using some nifty Esthar tech I don't get—something about turning sound waves into electromagnetic whatevers and bouncing them off your hull to make an echo inside—anyway if it's working like it should, you're hearing me talk to you now from the two Pods outside your window."

"Pods?" Rinoa repeated curiously.

"Oh, 'we' is all of us," Irvine added after a second's delay. "Quisty and Zell and Sephie and me. Selphie's flying one of these things. Ain't she fantastic? And Nida's on the other, with Cid and some advisors from FH. And I've been told we don't have the energy to talk forever, so if you could give us some sign you're receiving this message, flash a light or something, we'll tell you how to set the airlock so we can dock and the FH techies can figure out how to get the Ragnarok down on the planet again."

The transmission cut off as quickly as it had begun, leaving Rinoa and Squall staring at one another. Finally Rinoa reached for the console. "I guess we better let them know," she remarked, and flicked the main forward beamlight on and off in a rapid staccato pattern, the standard SeeD 'situation under control' signal.

Then she glanced at herself, and around the cockpit. "Uh, if they're going to dock soon..." she began, and dove for her blue coat and boots where they had gathered in the far corner, tangled with Squall's belts.

"Maybe we should clean up," Squall agreed, and hastily propelled himself toward the ceiling to collect the rest of the stray clothes.

 

* * *

They were properly attired when the first Pod docked—as neat an operation as could be wished for, as if the ship had been designed for the purpose—and their friends emerged from the airlock. Nevertheless Squall had a feeling he and Rinoa weren't fooling anyone.

Certainly not Irvine. As soon as the enthusiastic greetings were over he elbowed his commander in the ribs and winked. "Squall, you dog, gettin' Rinoa up here all alone..."

Squall kept his lips sealed and tried to force down the blood he could feel rising in his cheeks. He knew he hadn't done as good a job of it as he hoped when Irvine's eyes widened, and a grin as devilish as a dragon's split his face. "Hey..."

Selphie tipped forward to study Rinoa's aspect for an instant, then exchanged a most meaningful look with Irvine. The sharpshooter laughed out loud. "It's about time!" And he clapped Squall on the back hard enough to knock his commander a few inches into the air.

"Great you guys are safe...and all!" Zell was also grinning.

"You'll have to tell us everything," Quistis said, then blushed herself. "I mean about how you got Rinoa out, Squall, and what happened to the Ragnarok. But first we better see about getting back home."

"I hope the Pods can tow it in," Selphie said, "'cause I don't think the Ragnarok's gonna fly for a while." She wrinkled her nose at them. "What's you do to my poor ship?"

"..._Your_ ship?"

"What are these 'Pods,' anyway?" Rinoa asked eagerly. "We saw them come in, but we've never seen anything like them before."

"Actually Squall has," Quistis said. "But you might not remember—it was six months ago, one of the meetings you had with Cid. He showed you some diagrams. Just possibilities; they hadn't been built yet."

Squall shrugged. Forgetting old designs wasn't as bad as forgetting actual resources. "So what are they?"

"They're ours," Selphie said proudly. "SeeD spaceships. Designed to come up here. Not as cool as the Ragnarok, but just as fast, and cheaper. Esthar made 'em for us. But it's a shame, really." She winked at the other Seed. "If this had happened a month from now, you'd've seen something even better."

"Really?" Rinoa asked, when it was clear Squall wouldn't. "Come on, tell."

"Just some of the new renovations," Quistis said. "That was why Galbadia Garden was at FH, you know. They were adding a little technology, better shields, enhanced 'coms..."

"And one hell of a field-wheel improvement!" Zell exclaimed. "When they're done, Galbadia Garden will _really_ be able to fly—all the way to the moon, and beyond!"

"You mean it'll be able to go into space?"

"...Why?"

"Because it'd be awesome!"

"There's better reasons than that, Selphie," said Quistis. "Cid can tell you, Squall; he's the one who arranged it. But I think it's because of the possibilities—"

"SeeD in space!" Irvine declared. "It's enough just to be able to say that."

"Yes, but right now they need SeeD on the world more."

"We'll be back soon, Quisty," Selphie reported, upon checking via handradio with the other Pod. "The FH techs say we should be able to tow the Ragnarok down without problems. Though we should all ride in the Pod, in case the heat shields are damaged. Landfall's a blast but frying to a crisp's no fun!"

Half an hour later, all six of them were piled into the Pod, watching out the narrow windows as the carefully-secured tethers went taut, pulling the Ragnarok out of its relatively slow orbit and redirecting it toward the planet below. As they plunged into the atmosphere the scarlet hull began to glow with a brighter, orange hue, a corona of fire produced by the friction of reentry.

Gravity combined with acceleration to press them back into their seats. Selphie's mouth was set in the ever-present grin she always wore when piloting; the others grimaced and stretched to readjust to the weight and air pressure. They decelerated gradually, finally dropping to speeds slow enough to see clearly the blue ocean far below. The Ragnarok hung between the two Pods like an injured bird in a sling, dragged along behind them. Squall winced as the sunlight gave him his first clear view of the ravages wrought on the airship. Though the FH techs had assured them all—especially Selphie—that the damage would be relatively easy to repair, and in fact was mostly cosmetic, the crumpled bow and bent pinions destroyed the vessel's graceful lines.

In his mind's flashed a single image of Balamb Garden, broken. He swallowed, pushed the nightmare memory aside. Someone touched his hand, and he looked over to Rinoa. She squeezed his fingers and smiled.

Fisherman's Horizon appeared on the edge of the world, growing as they approached—then shrinking just as quickly as they passed by. "What—" Squall began.

Selphie risked a peek back over her shoulder. "We're going straight to Balamb Garden. Which is en route to Deling City now."

"Deling City?"

"Checking up on Seifer," Zell explained, then slapped his forehead. "That's right, we never got around to mentioning that..."

 

* * *

By the time Balamb Garden reached Deling City, Squall had been brought up to speed on the Galbadian revolution. Xu confirmed that it had spread beyond the capital by now; the whole country was on the verge of overthrowing every last bastion of government. The threat of the Lunatic Pandora had heightened the furor, and Timber, Dollet, and the other unwilling Galbadian states were eagerly feeding the flames. The airwaves rocked with news reports, declarations of various groups, and calls for honor. That open warfare had yet to break out was nothing short of a miracle.

And the one-time Sorceress's Knight was in the middle of it all. How far Seifer's responsibility went was unclear, but his name came up far too much for the jailbreak to be his only contribution. "He's had to have been planning this for a while," Quistis said. "For at least as long as he's been in Galbadia—which is most of the last year. But why?"

Raijin and Fujin weren't talking. Seifer's posse didn't deny any knowledge, but they refused to say or confirm anything about the revolution. "It's what Seifer's doing, ya know?" was the most that could be gotten out of Raijin; Fujin didn't offer as much as a customary single word. Squall couldn't even tell if they approved of his actions.

But when Balamb Garden, for the second time in a week, settled before the main gates of Galbadia's capital, Raijin and Fujin were outside before anyone could stop them, and when the SeeD emerged, the two stood flanking Seifer as if they had never left his side.

The Knight and his posse were the first before the gates. Behind them spread an host in formation, composed of soldiers in uniform and townsfolk in their best dress. Men, women, and children waited in silence, watching the SeeD march from the Garden. Squall lead them, with Rinoa walking at his side. Though no one cried out or broke order, he did not miss the contained reaction which rippled through the crowd, and wondered if it was for his SeeD or the Sorceress.

He looked at Seifer, standing tall with the support of all the people at his back, and had to suppress his own reaction. The blond man was the very image of the specter in his nightmare, white coat over the red cross, his chin tipped slightly upward in cool arrogance. The gunblade Hyperion was prominent, but sheathed at his side, silver glinting through the leather straps. His hands were empty, open in peace as he strode toward them.

Squall could feel Lionheart bumping against his leg, but kept his hand off its hilt, though his mind's eye flashed with visions of the blood flowing down Hyperion's blade. He saw Rinoa out of the corner of his eye, listened for the living presences of his other friends behind him. With that guaranty he also stepped forward and addressed his opposite. "Seifer."

He spoke quietly, but the name carried over the rustling wind to the motionless throng. Seifer inclined his head, not smiling. There was something new in the sky-blue eyes, not conceit, different than the madness of the death-angel. An unknown. Dangerous?

But the Garden and his SeeD were strong behind him. "Why have you done this, Seifer?" Squall demanded, calm. "What's your purpose?" Do we have a reason to fight? They always did, it seemed. From their first encounter, when both were too young to remember, they had been rivals.

Except now Seifer looked at Squall and said nothing, no challenge on his lips or in his eyes. The blue sparkled, as if in recognition of an irony, and then Seifer walked deliberately past Squall, to Rinoa.

Squall's astonished freeze lasted less than a second. He whirled, his hand dropping to Lionheart's hilt, but by then it was too late to stop him.

Seifer had knelt on one knee before Rinoa, his palms flat to the ground and his head bowed until his forehead almost touched his bent knee. "My lady Sorceress," he said, and though he didn't speak loudly every watcher could hear. "In your name, your Knight has taken this nation. Do with this country and this people as you will. We are yours."

One of Rinoa's hands went up to her mouth, the knuckle pressed to her lips. The other fluttered nervously at her side for a moment, then reached down to Seifer's shoulder. "Please," she whispered, "don't bow!"

He looked up to gaze into her face. "It's an honor all Knights owe the Sorceress," and he twisted his head around to shoot Squall an admonishing look that needed no interpretation.

"Oh, come on," Rinoa hissed, sounding much less flustered, "stop being an idiot and get up!"

"As you wish," Seifer told her, but there was an acerbic edge to his tone that was more his regular self. Rising to his feet, he added, low enough that only Rinoa and Squall could pick it up, "At least _some_ of us know a proper Knight's decorum." And the SeeD commander, oddly, found the insulting mutter almost comforting to hear.

When he was fully erect, Rinoa extended her hand again. Seifer took it, hesitated a bare instant as if contemplating kissing it as Knights did in the classics. Instead, at her warning look, he shook firmly. The Sorceress raised her voice. "Thank you," she said, to Seifer and those behind him. "I and the SeeD promise to serve you as best—"

Then she was drowned out by the great cheer which arose from the throat of every watcher. Solemnity irrevocably shattered, they shouted, laughed, and threw hats high into the air as they parted to conduct their new leaders into the city.

 

* * *

Much later that night, the Sorceress and her entourage found themselves ensconced in the smaller chamber adjacent to the public council hall, looking back upon the events of the day with some bewilderment. "I don't believe they wanted another Sorceress in charge," Rinoa was finally able to say.

Quistis shook her head. "I don't believe they _let_ a Knight be in charge."

Seifer gave a smug smirk. "You underestimate the clout of history."

"Please," Selphie groaned. "It's too late to talk like that!"

"Too many syllables for you, Tilmitt?"

"You better watch it—" Irvine and Zell warned simultaneously.

Fujin and Raijin both pushed back their chairs threateningly. Squall sighed. "We're all on the same side. Can this wait?"

Seifer waved his posse back. "What I was saying is that the people in Galbadia—and elsewhere, too—still think the whole idea of the Sorceress means something. Even if Ultimecia screwed up. They see the old movies and read the old books, and they want the old dream back. A piece of it, anyway."

"And you capitalized on that."

Seifer shrugged. "It was my dream, too, right? At least I had the guts to go after it. People respect that. Besides, it was already in Galbadia, the wish for revolution, even the organization for it. All they needed was a spark to set it off." He smiled briefly, a quicksilver grin, there and gone. "I always could make sparks fly."

"But why me?" Rinoa asked. "I know, I'm the Sorceress. But...I'm not that well known, and I've never ruled anything."

"You're Galbadian born and bred, the daughter of one of the most respected men in the nation—and everyone still recognizes your mom's name, too. Plus you're with the SeeD—people trust the SeeD. They think you saved the world and all. So they're all right with the idea of you ruling them. Even if you don't know anything about actually running a country." Seifer snorted. "In other words, people are idiots."

"That's what you get for following dreams," Zell muttered.

Seifer smirked at him with bloodless malice, but gestured for Raijin and Fujin to stay put, and forebear to reply. Instead he leaned back in his chair, propping his boots against the table's edge as he told Rinoa, "So Galbadia's yours, and you can do what you want with it. Though the council's not all broken up, and I'd put somebody who knows what they're doing in charge fast before things get totally out of hand."

"You?" Quistis inquired, one brow arched.

Seifer shrugged again. "Maybe, maybe not." He sobered for an instant, straightening to face Rinoa. "I told Squall before, I'm the Sorceress's Knight. Now and always."

The young Sorceress's gaze shifted between him and Squall, observed no challenge from either. At last she nodded seriously to both her Knights.

Accepting that wordless acknowledgment for what it was, Seifer rocked his chair back again. "I've got some suggestions, if you want to hear 'em."

"I would," Rinoa said. "And I have ideas of my own. If you're willing to help me work things out..."

"We're all willing," Squall said, before anyone else could open their mouths. And was slightly annoyed by the glance Seifer aimed his way—not anger, but approval.

But Rinoa smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said. "Now, about this leader thing, we need a new President, and I know who's perfect for the job..."

 

* * *

So it was that a week later, on the same balcony where little more than a year before the Sorceress Edea had assumed her brief reign, a new President was sworn in to lead Galbadia. And if the people had cheered loudly for the Sorceress and the SeeD, their shouts of celebration could have shook the planet when General Caraway took the final oath of office.

"This is only temporary," he assured the people in his following address, swiftly absolving his only major objection to his daughter's offer. "I have been duly appointed by the council to guide us in the beginning of our reconstruction, but one of our first priorities is to hold a true election, where you, the people, can decide who you want to rule."

"Somehow I don't think there's gonna be much contest," Irvine remarked to his friends, watching from their select seating on the balcony as the enthusiastic masses below went insane with applause. "I know where our ballots are going, right, oh Sorceress of ours?"

"I think Dad is the best thing for this country," Rinoa said sincerely. "I don't always get along with him, but I know he's honest, and strong, and smart—"

"And popular!" Selphie exclaimed, bouncing in her chair. "I wish I could vote!"

"Become a Galbadian citizen," Irvine told her.

"Hmm, and the easiest way to do that would be to find a Galbadian man to marry—"

"Shh, we gotta watch, this is important!" Zell interrupted.

General—now President—Caraway had finished his speech with a vow to fight for peace with all the effort he had once put toward war, and was ushering forth a middle-aged man and a woman. Behind them, at attention but fidgeting, stood Zone and Watt, looking uncomfortable in neatly pressed suits. Watt kept reaching up to doff the cap he wasn't wearing.

"It is my pleasure to welcome these representatives of Timber," Caraway said. "Lady Mayor, my lord." He nodded to them; they bowed in return, then he took the lady's hand and brought her to the balcony's edge. "As my first act as President," he proclaimed, "I declare the state of Timber, once of Galbadian sovereignty, to be a free and independent nation, with no ties to Galbadia except those fully endorsed by the independent government of Timber."

The subsequent applause was so deafening that speech was impossible for several minutes. When it began to subside, Rinoa leaned over and murmured to Squall, "Your contract is done."

"What?"

"Your contract," she repeated. "I hired you until the Timber Owls' mission succeeded. Their dream just came true. Timber's free. You're no longer my employees."

"...The Timber Owls have been defunct for a while," Squall said, wondering at the joke, when her eyes looked so serious.

Before he could comment on this, Zell whispered to him urgently, "Psst, Squall, Cid says pass this on to Rinoa." And he pushed a folded piece of paper into his commander's palm.

Obediently Squall handed the packet to Rinoa. With a puzzled frown she opened it, studied it for an instant. Then her eyes widened and her whole face brightened, like the sun coming out from clouds. "Look!" she gasped, and thrust the paper back at Squall.

He read it. The note, in Cid's neat printing, was short and to the point. "Rinoa: The ceremony will be this evening, but we thought you would appreciate due warning. You have passed with highest honors. Congratulations!" Beneath was the headmaster's scrawled signature and Edea's more elegant autograph. Pinned to the paper below that was a small enameled button. The SeeD emblem.

Squall leaned forward to peer down the rows and spot Cid, seated by Edea by the wall. The headmaster winked at him and gave a covert sign of victory with two fingers.

He looked back to Rinoa, who had reclaimed the paper and was staring at it as if afraid it would vanish, or she might wake up. "It's real," he told her. "You're a SeeD now."

He spoke loudly enough that the row heard in a momentary lull. Their friends' cheers were swallowed by the equally thrilled roar from the crowd below, but he had his arms around Rinoa, and with her mouth so close to his ear Squall heard her say, "It must be real—this is better than any dream!"


	12. Clearing the Board

"It was only logical," Cid told Squall that night. "We couldn't afford to lose someone of her caliber. And she's certainly proved herself."

They were on Balamb Garden's balcony, overlooking Deling City. Fireworks were still going off sporadically over the President's mansion. The Seed had put in an appearance at the city's festivities, but soon returned to the Garden for their own. In the ballroom behind the balcony doors, the SeeD party was going at top volume, celebrating both President Caraway's inauguration and the recent SeeD graduations of Rinoa and several other cadets.

Here outside, Squall had gotten his first chance in days to speak in private with the headmaster. That promotion was his first question. "Rinoa will have to work to advance her rank like everyone else," Cid said. "But though she didn't take an official test, Edea and I believe she merits appointment more than most SeeD cadets—and we never graduate anyone who doesn't have the necessary ability and more." He sipped his drink, then raised an eyebrow at Squall. "You aren't protesting our decision, are you?"

"Me? No!" Squall said forcefully. "I...thank you. I wanted to suggest it myself..."

"You should've," Cid said with a hint of reproach. "Nominating someone for SeeD membership is the kind of executive decision a commander really should make. Though your hesitation was probably correct in this case, since you are, ahem, personally involved with the young lady." He smiled genially at his SeeD commander, whose ears had gone pink. "But you didn't bring me out here to talk about Rinoa, did you, Squall?"

"...No, sir." Squall assumed a formal stance, straight-backed with his arms crossed. "I've been wanting to ask you this for a while, and there hasn't been a chance before."

"Yes?"

"What are we doing now?"

"You mean, we SeeD? What is SeeD doing at this moment?"

"I mean in general. What are we SeeD for now? What's the point?"

Cid put his wine glass down on the stone balustrade and gazed thoughtfully at the few stars visible through the city's haze. "Why are we here?" A smile touched his lips. "You just saved the world, again, and you're still asking?"

"Yes," Squall insisted. "It has to be more than that. We can't be here just to fix what goes wrong. We're rebuilding Trabia Garden, and making Galbadia Garden ready for space—you had the Pods built, and there are more planned. Planned for what? You and Edea started SeeD to fight Ultimecia—but she's gone. What's our purpose now?"

"You said Ultimecia's gone. You think you've saved the world." Cid lifted his head, his jaw firming. For that instant he was indeed the founder and leader of the most powerful fighting force in the world. "You're wrong."

"...What?"

"You killed the Sorceress. She won't bother us now. But she's in our future, Squall. She's coming. In fifty years, in five hundred, we don't know. We don't know where she'll emerge, or how she'll gain her power. But Ultimecia will be born one day. And SeeD will be there. You saw it."

Squall shook his head. "But those future SeeD...they failed. They were all dead."

"You don't understand," Cid said. "_You_ killed her, like you were meant to. That wasn't why they were there. That's not why we're still here now. There's something much more important than killing Ultimecia. And that's _surviving_ her. We know she instigates time compression—who knows what else she will be capable of? What she might do to people, to the very planet, before you kill her? For SeeD to succeed, for us to truly achieve our real mission, we must make a world that can withstand Ultimecia's evil. So when she's gone, everyone else will be left, to rebuild whatever she destroyed.

"The SeeD and the Gardens will help create that world. As soon as its renovations are complete, Galbadia Garden's going to be assigned to Esthar. To learn. The Galbadians actually had the right idea—Esthar and FH can't keep their technology to themselves anymore. Everyone will need it. President Loire agrees, and he's ready to work with the new head of Galbadia Garden to renew the old trade routes and open lines of communication."

"Who will that new head be?" Squall asked.

"We have to discuss it with you. Quistis has been doing a good job as your second, hasn't she? If you could afford to lose her, I believe she'll be up to the challenge. And we'll need a head for Trabia Garden soon as well—we also have plans for them. There's areas of the world that are isolated, separate...if Ultimecia should arise unchecked, she'll endanger all of us, all the innocent people in the world. We'll need to seek those hidden ones out."

"They might not want us," Squall said, recalling the Shumi's isolationism.

"If they don't join us, they may not survive," Cid said soberly. "It may be worth an invasion to save them, and everyone."

"Conquer those who don't join..." He thought of Dahl, lying in the Deling City hospital, as close to dead as one could be who still breathed. And Jezikan, fallen to the moon, forever entombed within the Lunatic Pandora. They too had tried to remake the world. And he wondered if it was anything more than fortune's chance, that they lay in their resting places, while he and those he loved celebrated here. "How does that make us any different from the Galbadians?"

Cid looked at Squall long and hard. "Because they cared only about their own ends, what they could build for themselves. And what they created wouldn't have lasted beyond the time it served them. The SeeD have to look further, to what we can build for the sake of everyone." The headmaster's hazel eyes studied him seriously. "There are never guarantees. But in the end, all Jezikan and Dahl could offer the world was the promise of nightmares. We... We can offer the hope of a future."

"And that's what you've always been planning for," Squall said. "The enhancements of Galbadia Garden, space-flight capabilities—we'll do that to all the Gardens, won't we? It's a contingency plan. If everything else fails, if we lose the world to her—we'll still have somewhere to go. Follow the ancients."

"Only if everything else fails. But yes. That's the idea," he confirmed, proud of his protégé's perception. "We'll bring everything, everyone, that we can. We won't lose to her."

"But that's not for some time yet," said a soft alto.

Cid turned with a brilliant smile as his wife glided onto the balcony. Edea's black hair shimmered in the starlight as she nodded gracefully to him and Squall, then continued, "Ultimecia won't come for years, if Laguna's right—he suggests that if Ellone were still alive when Ultimecia's born, she would've warned us. And when I took her powers, I sensed she came from a distant future...I don't know how long. But not for some years. It doesn't mean we should just rest on our laurels. But for one night, we can relax. You need it. Both of you." She linked arms with her husband and picked up his glass off the balcony's marble banister. "Come inside and have fun. You too, Squall. Rinoa is waiting for you."

But when Squall reentered the ballroom, he found Rinoa not on the dance floor but by a corner wall, in earnest conversation with Esthar's president. Her back was to him, dark hair falling like a glossy silk curtain over the collar of her SeeD dress uniform. She had almost worn her white strapless, but he was glad she had gone with her new livery. It fit her beautifully. He reminded himself to tell her so.

Facing the balcony, Laguna noticed Squall first and motioned him over. Aware that his father knew about SeeD's true mission, Squall asked upon reaching them, "Were you discussing the plans for Galbadia Garden in Esthar?"

Laguna shook his head. "Actually, we were just talking about you—both of you," and he patted Rinoa's shoulder. "You know how I suggested you should come to Esthar for a vacation? Well, you might not think it from what you've seen of it, but there are places in the city—and outside, though maybe not with the lunar monsters still around—that would be perfect for a honeymoon."

"A...honeymoon?"

Rinoa turned an unusual shade of dusky rose. "It was his idea—"

Laguna just beamed, green eyes twinkling.

"Father..." Squall said slowly.

"Oh, it's an open offer, not like you have to set a date or anything. Besides, you've already given her the ring," and he indicated the silver lion band on Rinoa's necklace.

"That's not—" Rinoa began.

Squall shook his head. "Never mind."

"Just a minute." Gesturing apology to Rinoa, Laguna took Squall by the arm and pulled him aside. "Squall," he said, for a moment serious, "It doesn't have to mean anything, not if you don't think it does. Though if that's the case, you owe it to Rinoa to tell her now. But if she does mean more to you...and I think she does..."

Squall simply nodded, because there were no words strong enough.

"In that case..." Laguna smiled. "I just want you to know you have my blessing, all the way. She's a fantastic girl—a fantastic woman. I think—no, I _know_ your mother would have liked her. And she'd have loved to see you happy."

"Thank you, Father," Squall said, and was almost surprised by how the simple words brightened his father's already cheerful countenance.

"I should talk to her father about it, I guess," Laguna said. "Man to man—or is it President to President, now? Hey, Ward, over here," and he beckoned to his minister across the dance floor. When the large man had joined them, Laguna asked, "We're supposed to meet with President Caraway sometime soon, right?"

Ward rumbled a reply Squall couldn't follow, but Laguna sighed. "Yes, I know we need to be getting back to Esthar, but this is important, too. Good international relations, isn't that what Kiros is always harping about?"

Ward responded. "I'm gonna take care of that soon," Laguna assured him, adding an aside to his son, "There's these guys in Timber who just restarted the railroad to FH, did you hear? They want to meet with me about going through to Esthar—a train into Esthar, haven't had that since the Sorceress War! Wild, huh? You should see these two, former Galbadian soldiers, they make me 'n Ward 'n Kiros look normal...what's their names, Wiggs and Bed, something like that..."

Ward leaned down and murmured something to Squall, clarifying the remark with a pointed cock of his head toward where Rinoa leaned against the wall, looking hopefully on at the couples dancing by. Laguna noticed the gesture and rolled his eyes. "All right, I get it—better get back to her, Squall, before she finds a partner herself." He gave his son a gentle shove in the right direction, then started toward Ellone's table, calling, "Hey, Elle, want anything to drink?"

Squall met Ward's eyes and saw silent laughter reflected in their depths. Then Rinoa joined them, smiling up at the man towering over them. "Say, Ward, we met your uncle in Deling City—Thurlon Zaback?"

Ward grinned and nodded eagerly. "He helped us out—helped rescue me," Rinoa told him. "He's a great man—maybe you should visit him. Bet it would make his day, especially if you showed him what you're doing now."

A slower song ended then, and the band struck up a lively reel. Couples were drawn from their seats by the sprightly beat, flocking onto the floor. Ward gestured the two of them toward the rest. Listening dubiously to the fast-paced tune, Squall hesitated, but Rinoa pulled him out among the other dancers. "Can't be that much harder than stopping the Pandora, right?" she whispered to him, then took his hands and whirled them into the rapid steps.

 

* * *

Even Squall was enjoying himself, Quistis noticed with small amazement, watching as he and Rinoa cavorted past her table, whirling with the others to the energetic music. The SeeD commander wasn't quite smiling openly, but the intensity in his expression was not mere concentration on the complicated steps, which he picked up as swiftly and dexterously as he did everything. That particular look held a contentment that came only from a certain presence, whom he moved with now in perfect harmony. Rinoa laughed freely as he swung her around, not a Sorceress for this moment, not even SeeD, completely absorbed in the one position she would never forsake.

They made a beautiful pair, Quistis had to admit. Meanwhile Selphie and Irvine were making up for lesser ability with sheer enthusiasm and velocity, with the bonus that Selphie was small enough for Irvine to fling in just about any direction with abandon. And Zell had gathered the nerve to ask Sashi out, and now was bouncing around with her merrily—the library girl might act subdued on duty, but she cut quite a figure on the dance floor, especially with her dress, not standard SeeD attire but getting no protests from any male present. Witnessing her friends' happiness, Quistis couldn't help but share it. She smiled, honestly, but with just a touch of self-pity that she despised without being able to dispel.

It would help if just one of the Treppies gathered two tables away would ask her to dance!

She had just about given up hope when a shadow fell across her. Quistis looked up, half expecting Irvine.

"Excuse me, my lady, but may I have this dance?" Dark, warm baritone; dark, trim suit. Out of his regular costume, she didn't recognize him immediately. The voice was musically accented, deeper than one would expect from his lithe form. Kiros.

Quistis swallowed, then nodded and stood. The minister's brown eyes sparkled as he caught up her hands. "Looks like I lost the bet."

Quistis stiffened. "The bet?"

"I bet Laguna that I wouldn't get within twenty paces of you, through the crowd. What's wrong with the guys here—do they all take after the Loires? I don't know about your commander, but Laguna used to have to be force-marched onto the dance floor."

"Dragged, in Squall's case," Quistis giggled, and allowed herself to be pulled onto it as well.

Selphie and Irvine, taking a breather at a nearby table, watched Kiros sweep Quistis into the rhythm of the swing.

"He's good," Selphie remarked.

"So's she. I haven't seen Quisty having so much fun in a while," Irvine observed.

They sat in silence while the pair danced by.

"Irvine, d'you think—"

"Say, Selphie—"

Together they leaned forward, elbows on the table and chins in hands, thoughtful.

"We've known him for a while, and he is Sir Laguna's friend."

"He's a lot older—"

"But _so_ handsome!"

"They do look good together..."

"And Quistis—"

"Definitely."

They continued to watch the two dance. Kiros bent to whisper something in her ear, their heads close, ebony beside shining gold. Quistis laughed again.

Irvine and Selphie looked at one another. "Hmm..."

 

* * *

Though Seifer and his posse had been given courtesy invitations, there was some surprise when the three actually appeared. But their behavior was impeccable, and a SeeD party in full swing rarely barred anyone at the gate. Seifer was currently dancing with Xu. Rinoa noticed Raijin and Fujin standing against the wall by the main doors. Raijin was chatting amiably with Nida while the pilot's date fetched drinks, but Fujin stared silently ahead, pale eye fixed on the leader of her posse, like a camera lens capturing every move he made.

Rinoa idly wondered how much wine it would take for Fujin to grab Seifer for a dance. She doubted the knight would make the first move; he wasn't exactly oblivious to his friends, but he didn't seem to think of Fujin as anything more than that. If she had worn a dress tonight, perhaps... Maybe she could suggest something to Seifer.

She considered Fujin's pride. Maybe not. They were lucky Selphie and Irvine were preoccupied.

Rinoa returned her attention to the music and her partner. It was well worth the effort to get Squall onto the dance floor. His coordination was perfect, as befitted a gunblade specialist, but fighting wasn't his only forte.

She smiled to herself. No, definitely not...

When the music stopped, she was out of breath and a bit dizzy from spinning. "Let's wait for something a little slower," she asked Squall.

He nodded, took her arm and began to walk with her to one of the nearby tables, only to freeze mid-step. Rinoa turned her head and saw Seifer, his arms crossed as he returned Squall's gaze. The blond knight's mouth was slanted in a cynical smirk. "Good party," he said. "So, Squall, what's this about me being ultimate evil?"

"Seifer—" Rinoa protested, wondering how he had possibly learnt of that.

Squall's shoulders were rigid under his dress jacket, but he answered calmly. "It was only a nightmare. Lord Dahl—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard about what that Warlock could do. But weren't his visions made of what was in your head to begin with? Is that really what you think of me, Squall?"

The SeeD commander didn't reply. The knight stared at him for a long instant, searching his face with narrowed eyes.

Then Seifer laughed. "Heh—I'm flattered! Didn't know you thought so highly of me!"

Squall put his head in his hand with a muffled groan as Seifer cuffed his shoulder, grinning. "We have to have a rematch sometime. Show you how the real thing fights, not some dumb imaginary copy. I've found new ways to train—you're in for a shock."

"...Whatever."

"What are you going to be doing now, Seifer?" Rinoa asked.

Seifer shrugged. "Nothing right now. Know anyone looking for an unemployed knight? Is SeeD maybe gonna start contracting out?"

"Actually I was hoping you might stay in Galbadia," Rinoa said. "At least for the next few months while my father's president. A lot of people do support him, but there are some who really don't like him, in the army and elsewhere. And some of the council members have got to be unhappy that he's President now. I'm worried..."

"That somebody might try to put him out of office permanently, yeah. Well, can he hire bodyguards? Me and Fujin and Raijin need cash for food, a place to live, that kind of thing."

"I'll talk to him about it tomorrow," Rinoa said. "But will you do it?"

"We'll guard him with our lives." Seifer bowed to her. "As the Sorceress wishes."

"Uh...thanks. Thank you. Um, hey, I haven't seen you dance with your date yet."

"'Date'?"

"Didn't you come with Fujin?"

Seifer frowned, mystified. "Yeah..."

"She's right over there. You should ask her for a dance."

Seifer looked at her askance, but gave a parting nod to both of them and struck off in the direction of his posse.

Squall watched him curiously. "Does that mean he has to ask Raijin, too?"

Rinoa giggled, then gave a soft sigh of relief. "You think he'll outgrow it soon?"

"What?"

"This whole Sorceress-Knight respect thing. Maybe it's flattering, but..."

She felt more than saw Squall tense again. "You think so?"

"It's spooky, that's what I think." She glanced up at his still expression. "Hey, are you jealous?"

"..."

"You are! That's so cute." She grinned, poked him in the ribs. "I'm not gonna tell you you're being silly, because you already know it. Just promise you won't start calling me 'Sorceress' and bowing."

"My promise, Sorceress." And he essayed a small bow to boot.

Rinoa sighed, then swung around to face him. "Just for that, you have to dance with me again."

A slow waltz had begun. In the dusk outside the spotlights, they danced close, arms looped around one another and barely shuffling their feet as they swayed to the lilting tempo. Rinoa felt as if she were floating, drifting on the music's leisurely current. Almost as good as weightlessness.

Similar thoughts must have crossed Squall's mind, for he murmured in her ear, "I preferred this in free fall."

Rinoa swallowed a chortle. "We could improve it," she suggested, and moving with the melody she waltzed them further back, until they were against the heavy drapes along the far wall. Hidden in their shadows, the sounds of the band and the party were muted. At an illusory distance, the center of the ballroom glittered like jewelry with gowns, candles, and laughter. The SeeD's Garden was not always this festive, but it was her home now, officially, and that made every plain fixture and dark corner beautiful.

And Squall was a warm figure beside her, features obscured by the shadows. She traced her fingers over the angled planes of his face, rocked forward to kiss him gently, then reached for her collar. "It's hot over here," she whispered. "We should open a window." She struggled with the fastening of her dress jacket. "How do you get this thing off?"

Squall's long fingers deftly undid the top button. "I wanted to tell you," he said softly, "your uniform...looks wonderful."

"I hope it looks half as good as yours," Rinoa replied. "We're a matched set now."

"Yes," Squall agreed, happily, she thought. She leaned her back against the cloth-draped wall and tilted up her face toward his as he drew closer. The curtains billowed up around them, stirring faint dust. Squall sneezed and Rinoa chuckled under her breath.

"Hey—who's there?"

They both froze. Silence. At last Rinoa ventured, "Zell?"

"...Rinoa?"

The drapes gathered, puffed out, and at last were drawn aside. Zell blinked at them. His dress jacket was over his arm and his white shirt was half unbuttoned. Beside him against the stone wall, Sashi adjusted the narrow shoulder strap of her crimson gown and smiled at them. "Good evening, Commander, Rinoa," she said cheerfully.

"Uh...hi, Squall," Zell stammered. "We...uh...thought maybe...er...the windows should be opened?"

"It's hot in here, isn't it," Rinoa said, grinning. "Told you, Squall."

"I didn't disagree," he said mildly. "But there aren't any windows along this wall."

"Oh...yeah..."

"Say, Zell, did you know when you blush you can see the color through your hair?"

"Really?" Sashi stood on tiptoes to inspect this phenomenon.

Zell's face was rapidly becoming redder than his date's dress. "We should—there's still music—maybe Selphie and Irvine would like—"

"No, we'll go," Rinoa said. "Sorry we—"

"Oh, stay, there's plenty of space," Sashi said, and proved it by wrapping her arms around Zell's neck and kissing him hard enough to stifle his startled squawk.

Another, familiar waltz began. Rinoa took pity on their friend. "They're playing our song, Squall. We have to dance."

Zell dipped his head, grateful, and Squall smiled, understanding her motivation. As they began to walk, arm in arm, back to where their other friends gathered in the glittering ballroom, Squall leaned closer and told her, "I love you."

"I love you," Rinoa replied, her heart buoyant.

"You're making me sick to my stomach," Zell said from behind the curtain.

And the imperturbable SeeD commander astonished everyone close enough to hear by throwing back his head and laughing out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story because when I finished playing Final Fantasy VIII, I found I wasn't ready to say goodbye to the characters. Now, 12 chapters later, I find I'm still not quite prepared...does this really _have_ to be the end?
> 
> This is the longest story I've written to date, and a labor of love from start to finish. That being said, I wouldn't have been able to finish it without the support I received. Everyone who read and responded, from one note to comments after every chapter, you have all my thanks, and this completed piece to show for it. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!
> 
> Sayonara...until next time!
> 
> XmagicalX


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